BX  5199   .B9  S6  1901 
Spooner,  William  Archibald, 

1844-1930. 
Bishop  Butler 


BISHOP  BUTLEK 

AFTUR  A  I'AIMING  BY  VANDEKBAN 


BISHO  Pa  BUTLER 


BY 

W.  A.  SPOONER,  M.A. 

FELLOW  AND  TUTOR  OF  NEW  COLLEGE,  OXFORD,  AKD 
HONORARY  CANON  OF  CHRIST  CHURCH,  OXFORD 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND  COMPANY 

LONDON:  METHUEN  &  CO. 
I901 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arcliive 
in  2015 


littps://arcliive.org/details/bisliopbutlerOOspoo_0 


PREFACE 


The  publication  within  the  last  five  years  of  two 
elaborate,  and  even  sumptuous,  editions  of  Bishop 
Butler's  works  seems  to  prove  that  they  have  still 
an  interest  for  the  reading  public.  Nor  is  it  surprising 
that  this  should  be  the  case.  There  is  much  in  the 
temper  and  methods  of  our  author  which  falls  in  with 
the  needs  of  our  own  time  and  suits  its  scientific 
spirit. 

With  these  larger  and  more  elaborate  editions  the 
present  work  comes  in  no  way  into  competition. 
Its  object  is  twofold ;  first,  to  view  Butler  in  his 
historical  setting,  —  to  see  him  in  the  light  of  the 
times  in  which  he  lived,  the  questions  with  which  his 
thoughts  were  occupied,  the  controversies  in  which  he 
bore  so  leading  a  part.  On  this  side  this  little  book 
merely  attempts  in  a  limited  field  what  all  history 
aims  at  on  a  larger  scale.  But,  in  the  second  place, 
an  endeavour  has  been  made  to  appraise  the  value  of 
Butler's  contributions  to  English  thought,  to  separate 
the  solid  and  permanent  element  in  his  writings  from 
the  more  or  less  ephemeral  and  transitory,  to  deter- 
mine what  lessons  of  abiding  interest  for  our  own  day 
his  works  contain. 


vi 


PREFACE 


In  executing  the  former  part  of  my  task  I  have  to 
acknowledge  the  deep  debt  I  am  under  to  Mr.  Leslie 
Stephen's  History  of  English  Thought  in  the  Eighteenth 
Century,  and  to  Mr.  Pattison's  essay  on  Tendencies  of 
Religious  Thought  in  England,  1688-1750.  Without 
these  two  admirable  works  this  book  would  either 
never  have  been  written  or  would  have  taken  quite  a 
different  shape.  If  I  have  ventured  sometimes  to 
express  my  dissent  from  Mr.  Stephen  it  is  not  because 
I  impugn  his  facts  or  desire  to  controvert  his  argu- 
ments, but  because  I  feel  I  differ  from  him  on  some 
fundamental  questions  of  principle. 

To  Mr.  Gladstone's  edition  of  Butler's  works  I  am 
greatly  indebted  for  the  division  into  sections  which 
has  made  reference  to  the  whole  of  Butler's  writings 
for  the  first  time  possible  and  easy.  In  the  references 
in  the  footnotes  I  have  adopted  throughout  his  divi- 
sion into  sections.  I  have  also  followed  him  in 
referring  to  the  Fifteen  Sermons  preached  at  the 
Eolls  under  the  title  of  Sermons,  and  to  the  Six 
Sermons  preached  on  public  occasions  as  SS.  In 
places,  too,  I  have  received  real  help  from  the  Analysis 
given  as  a  heading  to  the  different  sections.  In  other 
respects  my  debt  to  him  is  rather  less  that  I  antici- 
pated. Of  the  Dissertations  contained  in  the  volume 
of  Studies  Subsidiary  to  Bidler's  Works  some  seemed  to 
lie  somewhat  apart  from  the  main  topics  treated  of  by 
Butler  himself,  while  others  appeared  of  rather  sub- 
ordinate interest.  Yet  no  lover  of  Butler  can  faU  to 
acknowledge  how  much  Mr.  Gladstone  has  done  for 


PREFACE 


vii 


the  study  of  Butler's  works  by  making  them  generally 
accessible  to  the  reading  public,  and  commending 
them  by  the  authority  of  his  great  name.  Works  to 
which  Mr.  G-ladstone  acknowledged  his  obligations, 
and  to  the  elucidation  of  which  he  devoted  the  declin- 
ing years  of  his  life,  could  not  fail  to  have  attractions 
for  many,  at  least  in  our  generation.  Of  other  authors 
whom  I  have  consulted  I  have  learnt  most  from  Dean 
Church  and  Mr.  Bagehot.  Dean  Church's  appreciation 
is  singularly  sympathetic,  and  expressed  with  that 
felicity  of  language  which  distinguishes  all  his  writings, 
while  Mr.  Bagehot's  article  is  marked  by  bis  accus- 
tomed shrewdness  and  independence  of  judgment. 

In  conclusion,  I  have  to  express  my  gratitude  to 
my  friend  and  colleague  Mr.  H.  W.  B.  Joseph  for  the 
trouble  he  has  taken  in  revising  my  proofs,  and  for 
several  valuable  criticisms  and  suggestions. 

New  College,  Oxford, 
Avgust  1901. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


CHAP.  I-ABK 

I.  Life  and  Times  of  Bishop  Butler  ...  1 

II.  MouAL  Practice  and  Moral  Theory  in  England  in 

THE  First  Half  of  the  Eighteenth  Century  58 

III.  Butler's  Sermons        .          .         .         .  •  88 

IV.  The  Deists  and  the  Deistical  Controversy  .  126 
V.  The  "Analogy,"  Part  I.       .         .         .  .146 

VI.  The  "Analogy,"  Part  II.  .  .  •  •  179 
VII.  The  Two  Dissertations   of  Personal  Identity 

AND  OF  THE  NATURE  OF  ViETUE       .  .  •  219 

VIII.  General  Estimate  and  Summary     .         .  .227 
Index  257 


X 


/ 


BISHOP  BUTLER: 
HIS  LIFE  AKD  WRITINGS 


CHAPTER  I 

LIFE  AND  TIMES 

Bishop  Butler  has  recorded  that  he  set  before  himself 
the  search  after  truth  as  the  business  of  his  life.i  This 
being  his  aim,  his  career  was  necessarily  that  of  the 
student  and  thinker  rather  than  of  the  man  of  action. 
As  such,  his  life  presents  few  incidents  for  his  bio- 
grapher to  record.  Another  and  even  greater  difficulty 
is  presented  by  the  character  of  the  man  himself.  He 
lived  during  stirring  times,  but  with  a  singular  aloof- 
ness from  them.  His  writings  contain  scarcely  a 
reference  to  passing  events  (there  is  just  one  mention, 
and  that  is  all,  of  the  rebellion  of  '45  ^),  and  very  few 
notices  even  of  contemporary  writers  and  thinkers. 
The  consequence  is  that  we  know  scarcely  anything  of 
what  he  thought  or  felt  on  current  events  or  topics  of 
the  day.  He  lives  and  moves  amongst  them  as  one 
almost  wholly  unaffected  by  them.  Nor  was  this 
absence  of  reference  to  specific  events  of  his  own  time 
accidental.  His  impersonal  style  of  writing  was  part 
of  the  very  nature  of  the  man.    He  wished  to  be 

'  Fourth  Letter  to  Dr.  Clarke. 

-  Sermons  on  Public  Occasions,  Sermon  V.  §  12. 


2     BISHOP  BUTLER  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


judicial,  impartial,  and  scientific,  and  he  succeeded  in 
no  ordinary  degree  in  realising  his  own  ideal.  His 
utterances  were  intended  to  be  not  so  much  his  own 
individual  utterances,  as  expressive  of  the  voice  of 
reason  herself.  Hence  the  absence  of  passion  and  of 
any  personal  feeling;  hence,  too,  that  quality  in  his 
writings  which  made  them  seem  "  somewhat  too  little 
vigorous,  and  not  sufficiently  earnest"  for  the  taste 
of  his  contemporaries.  But  hence,  also,  that  which 
has  given  them  their  permanent  value  and  abiding 
authority ;  which  has  made  them,  as  it  has  been  well 
expressed,^  the  summary  of  the  literature  of  an  epoch  ; 
which  has  caused  them  to  be  read  and  valued,  while 
the  almost  innumerable  publications  among  which  they 
appeared  have  dropped  out  and  been  forgotten,  or  are 
studied  at  most  by  those  who,  from  whatever  cause, 
are  led  to  rake  among  the  ashes  of  a  now  almost 
forgotten  controversy. 

But  this  self-suppression,  this  impersonal  character 
of  his  writings,  however  much  it  may  have  added  to 
their  philosophic  and  permanent  value,  has  added  at 
least  in  the  same  degree  to  the  difficulty  of  the  task 
of  Butler's  would-be  biographer.  It  has  deprived  him 
of  the  most  important  and  trustworthy  materials  from 
which  a  satisfactory  biography  might  have  been  com- 
posed, that  picture  of  the  general  development  and 
growth  of  an  author's  thought  and  mind  which  must 
ever  constitute  the  main  interest  of  a  student's  and 
philosopher's  Ufe. 

Nor  has  external  e\adence  supplied  to  any  con- 
siderable extent  the  void  which  Butler's  method  of 
writing  has  created.  The  bishop  found  no  Boswell; 
and  the  earliest  complete  biography  of  him  did  not 
appear  till  more  than  sixty  years  after  his  death,  and 
had  then  to  be  constructed  from  second-hand  sources  of 

^  Pattison,  Essay. 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


3 


information.  Some,  but  unfortunately  very  few,  in- 
teresting details  are  indeed  to  be  gathered  from  the 
almost  contemporary  Zi/e  of  Archbishop  Seeker,  published 
by  Porteous  in  1772.  Bishop  Wilson's  Life  and  Letters 
supply  two  or  three  more  scanty  notices.  But  both 
these  sources  of  information  go  but  a  little  way  to 
satisfy  our  curiosity ;  and  Mr.  Bartlett's  Meynoirs,  to- 
gether with  the  earlier  Life  by  Kippis  contributed  to 
the  revised  edition  of  the  Biographia  Britannica} 
remain  still  our  chief  written  authorities.  Of  more 
recent  Lives,  the  two  principal  are  that  by  Bishop 
Fitzgerald,  prefixed  to  his  edition  of  the  Analogy ;  and 
a  brightly  written  and  accurate  Life  by  Bishop  Steere,  to 
be  found  in  his  edition  of  the  Sermons.  The  research, 
however,  of  these  later  writers  has  been  able  to  add 
but  little  to  what  was  already  to  be  found  in  the  fuller 
works  of  their  predecessors. 

Tradition,  unfortunately,  has  also  done  exceedingly 
little  to  supplement  our  scanty  information.  Bishop 
Philpotts,  one  of  Butler's  successors  in  the  rectory 
of  Stanhope,  took  much  pains  to  glean  what  few 
traditions  still  lingered  in  the  parish  about  his  dis- 
tinguished predecessor;  but  nothing  practically  came 
of  the  search.  Old  people  seemed  to  remember  that 
Butler  was  to  be  met  riding  fast  on  a  black  pony,  and 
that  he  gave  liberally  to  beggars ;  but  that  was  all. 
Nor  did  Oriel  College,  Bristol,  or  St.  Paul's  treasure 
up  any  certain  memories  about  him.  At  each  of  these 
places  his  name  survived,  but  scarcely  anything  besides. 
Of  his  life  at  Bristol,  Dean  Tucker,  who  was  for  some 
time  his  chaplain,  has  preserved  a  few  details  which 
will  be  related  in  their  proper  place.  From  one  of 
Butler's  own  letters  ^  we  are  able  to  frame  a  scanty 

'  PublLshed  in  1772.  It  is  said  to  have  been  based  in  part  on  notes 
furnished  by  one  of  the  bishop's  nephews. 

-  Letter  to  the  Duchess  of  Somerset,  see  below,  page  42. 


4     BISHOP  BUTLER  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


picture  of  his  chief  occupations  during  his  too  brief 
sojourn  at  Auckland  Castle ;  and  Dr.  Nathaniel  Foster, 
his  chaplain  in  his  closing  years,  has  preserved  for  us, 
in  a  few  short  and  hasty  letters  written  to  Seeker  at 
the  time,  a  somewhat  meagre  description  of  the  closing 
scenes  of  his  life. 

Though  the  details  which  would  fill  in  the  picture 
and  give  it  life  and  interest  are  thus  wanting,  yet 
the  main  facts  of  his  career  are  notorious,  and  fortun- 
ately beyond  dispute.  Joseph  Butler,  the  youngest 
of  eight  children  of  a  well-to-do  retired  draper  of  the 
little  country  town  of  Wantage  in  Berkshire,  was  born 
in  a  house  called  the  Chantry,  lying  just  outside  the 
town,  on  May  18,  1692.^  Eespecting  his  father,  two 
facts  only  are  known — that  he  was  a  Presbyterian  in 
religion,  and  that  he  was  in  comfortable  circumstances. 
Of  Butler's  childhood  no  records  have  been  preserved. 

1  There  is  perhaps  some  little  doubt  about  the  date  of  his  birth. 
May  18,  1692,  is  the  date  given  in  all  the  biographies  from  Kippis 
downwards.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Register  of  the  University  of 
Oxford  gives  his  age  as  seventeen  when  he  matriculated  a  member  of 
Oriel  on  March  17,  1714.  If  this  date  were  correct  he  could  not  have 
been  born  till  May  1096.  But  there  are  almost  insuperable  difficulties 
in  accepting  the  age  as  stated  in  the  University  Register.  In  the  first 
place,  we  should  have  to  believe  that  the  correspondence  with  Dr. 
Clarke  was  carried  on  by  him  while  still  a  mere  lad  of  sixteen  ;  but 
he  himself,  in  his  first  letter,  writes  as  if  he  had  attained  an  age  to 
which  speculations  of  the  kind  he  was  engaged  in  were  at  least 
natural,  and  as  if,  further,  he  had  already  been  engaged  for  some  time 
in  them.  In  the  next  place,  he  was  ordained  both  deacon  and  priest 
in  the  year  1717.  Now,  supposing  the  accepted  date  of  his  birth  to  be 
correct,  he  would  be  by  that  time  of  the  suitable  age  of  twenty-five, 
whereas  if  we  were  to  accept  the  date  given  in  the  University  Register 
he  would  be  only  just  twenty  years  old,  an  age  at  which,  even  in  those 
lax  times,  it  is  unlikely  that  he  would  have  received  ordination.  Nor 
is  it  likely,  again,  that  so  young  a  man  could  have  been  appointed  to  so 
important  a  post  as  that  of  preacher  at  the  Rolls  in  the  next  year. 
On  these  different  grounds  it  would  seem  as  if  the  traditional  date  is 
to  be  preferred,  and  we  must  suppose  that  some  error  has  crept  at  this 
point  into  the  Register  of  the  University. 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


5 


His  earliest  instruction  he  received  at  the  Grammar 
School  of  his  native  town,  where  he  was  a  pupil  under 
the  Eev.  Philip  Barton.  That  he  retained  some  regard 
for  this,  his  earliest,  instructor  may  be,  perhaps, 
gathered  from  the  fact  that,  when  in  1740  he  was 
appointed  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  he  presented  Mr.  Barton 
to  almost  the  first  piece  of  preferment  that  fell  to 
his  gift,  the  rectory  of  Hutton  in  Essex. 

If  we  may  believe  a  statement  in  Kippis's  Life, 
Butler,  while  still  a  boy,  exhibited  unusual  signs  of  in- 
tellectual ability,  and  it  was  for  this  reason  that  his 
father  designed  him  for  admission  into  the  Presbyterian 
ministry,  and  sent  him  to  be  educated  at  the  then 
justly  famous  Dissenting  Academy  conducted  by  Mr. 
Samuel  Jones,  first  at  Gloucester,  and  subsequently  at 
Tewkesbury.  At  this  establishment  the  boy  and  his 
friends  were  educated  not  only  in  mathematics  and 
classics,  but  also  in  logic  and  Hebrew.^  Indeed,  Mr. 
Jones  must  have  been  a  teacher  of  no  ordinary  skill 
and  vigour,  for  among  the  sixteen  pupils  who  were 
at  this  time  under  his  instruction  were  to  be  found 
not  only  Butler  himself,  but  also  Seeker,  his  lifelong 
friend,  afterwards  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  ;  Maddox, 
subsequently  Bishop  of  Worcester;  Chandler,  the  well- 
known  Nonconformist  divine ;  and  Bowes,  afterwards 
Lord  Chancellor  of  Ireland.  Lardner,  the  famous 
Biblical  critic,  was  also  a  pupil  in  the  same  school, 
but  at  a  somewhat  later  date. 

It  was  while  a  pupil  at  Tewkesbury  that  Butler  gave 
the  first  public  proof  of  his  ability  as  a  metaphysician 
and  thinker,  in  the  famous  letters  addressed  by  him  to 
Dr.  Clarke,  then  regarded  as  the  foremost  philosopher 
of  his  age.  Clarke  had  given,  in  his  Boyle  Lectures 
delivered  in  1704  and  1705,  what  he  claimed  to  be  a 
demonstrative  proof  of  the  being  and  attributes  of 

'  Portoous's  Life  of  Seeker. 


6     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


God.  Butler,  writing  first  on  November  14,  1713, 
ventures  to  throw  doubts  on  two  of  the  arguments  on 
which  Clarke  had  relied,  or  rather  to  state  certain 
difficulties  which  stood  in  the  way  of  his  acceptance 
of  them.  In  this  letter,  written  when  he  was  but 
twenty-one  years  of  age,  and  at  a  time  when  he  had 
received  only  a  school  training,  he  tells  Dr.  Clarke 
"  that  he  had  made  it  his  business,  ever  since  he  thought 
himself  capable  of  such  sort  of  reasoning,  to  find  out, 
if  possible,  a  demonstrative  proof  of  the  being  and 
attributes  of  God,"  and  was  therefore  delighted  to 
come  upon  so  distinguished  a  reasoner  as  Clarke 
engaged  on  the  same  quest.  The  argument  of  Clarke 
to  which  Butler  objects  was  one  in  which  he  deduced 
the  omnipresence  of  God  from  His  necessary  existence. 
"  If,"  said  Clarke,  "  God  could  be  absent  from  any  one 
part  of  space,  He  could  equally  be  absent  from  aU ; 
but  if  He  could  be  absent  from  aU,  this  would  seem 
to  imply  that  His  existence  in  any  was  not  necessary ; 
but  this  supposition  is  incompatible  with  the  presumed 
necessity  of  His  self-existence."  To  this  Butler  objects, 
"  the  argimient  proves,  indeed,  that  God  cannot  be 
absent  from  all  places  at  the  same  time,  but  fails  to 
show  that  He  may  not  be  absent  from  them  all  at 
different  times;  and  therefore  God  is  not  necessarily 
shown  by  it  to  be  present  in  all  spaces  at  any  one 
time."  When  Clarke  had  replied,  that  "  in  his  concep- 
tion a  necessary  being  has  a  necessary  existence  in 
every  part  of  space,"  Butler  professes  himself  some- 
what doubtfully  satisfied  with  the  argument,  but  adds, 
in  a  subsequent  letter ,i  "  I  am  reaUy  at  a  loss  about  the 
nature  of  space  and  duration,"  as  if  he  were  not  yet 
entirely  convinced. 

The  otlier  point  on  which  he  feels  a  difficulty  is 
Clarke's  contention  that  a  self-existent  Being  must 

>  Letter  V, 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


7 


be  necessarily  one ;  for  if  there  were  more  than  one 
self-existent  Being  or  substance,  one  or  other  of  them 
would  have  to  be  thought  of  as  contingent,  and  would 
therefore  lose  its  quality  of  self-subsistence.  To  this 
Butler  objects,  that  he  can  see  here  no  necessary  con- 
nection between  the  antecedent  and  the  consequent. 
"  For  why  is  it  not  possible  at  least  to  conceive  of  each 
of  the  two  self  -  existent  substances  as  existing  in 
absolute  isolation  and  independence  of  the  other  ?  in 
which  case  the  self-existence  of  the  one  would  not 
involve  the  contingency  of  the  other."  Clarke  explains 
in  answer,  that  in  his  view  a  Being  or  substance  can 
only  be  regarded  as  self-existent  when  its  existence 
is  implied  in  and  is  necessary  to  the  existence  of  every 
thing  besides ;  and  that,  if  self-existence  be  used  in 
this  sense,  then  the  idea  of  two  self-existent  Beings 
does  necessarily  involve  a  contradiction  in  terms.  In 
this  case,  again,  Butler  admits  that  his  opponent  has 
the  best  of  the  argument,  but  writes  in  such  terms 
that  it  is  clear  his  mind  was  not  entirely  satisfied  on 
the  subject. 

The  correspondence  was  not  without  influence  on 
Butler's  fortunes,  and  perhaps  on  the  views  and 
methods  of  argument  which  he  ultimately  adopted. 
Clarke  was  so  much  impressed  with  the  force  and 
abiUty  with  which  the  objections  were  stated,  and  even 
more  with  the  fairness  of  mind,  candour,  and  love  of 
truth  that  they  displayed,  that  he  took  considerable 
pains  to  find  out  who  his  correspondent  was,  as  the 
letters  had  been  sent  to  him  anonymously,  having  been 
posted  by  Seeker  for  his  friend  at  Gloucester.  Further, 
he  seems  to  have  regarded  the  writer  of  the  letters, 
when  discovered,  as  one  whose  interests  were  to  be 
advanced  ;  and  so  he  was  partly  responsible  for  obtain- 
ing for  Butler  his  first  piece  of  preferment,  his  appoint- 
ment as  preacher  at  the  KoUs.    On  Butler  himself 


8     BISHOP  BUTLEK  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


the  effect  of  the  correspondence  seems  to  have  been 
to  make  him  distrustful  of  the  high  ^  priori  method 
wliieh  Clarke  had  adopted.  The  hesitation  with 
which  he  found  himself  beset  in  accepting  as  con- 
vincing and  satisfactory  the  abstract  arguments  which 
Clarke  put  forward  led  him  to  prefer  that  humbler 
and  more  tentative,  but  more  satisfactory  and  con- 
clusive, method  of  reasoning  which  rests  on  an  appeal 
to  observed  and  generally  admitted  facts.  This  was 
the  method  which  he  actually  employed  alike  in  the 
Sermons  and  in  the  Analogy.  In  truth,  demonstrations 
like  those  of  Clarke  and  earlier  of  Spinoza,  modelled 
on  the  method  used  by  Newton  in  his  Principia,  are  less 
applicable  in  the  sphere  of  theology  than  in  those  of 
mathematics,  optics,  and  celestial  mechanics — and  that 
for  two  reasons.  In  the  first  place,  the  ideas  with 
which  theology  deals  are  less  clear  and  adequately 
grasped  by  our  minds  than  are  the  notions  of  space, 
time,  motion,  force,  direction,  equahty,  and  inequality 
which  are  used  in  the  mathematical  and  kindred 
sciences;  while,  in  the  second  place,  we  have  not  in 
theology  the  same  chance  of  verifying  our  results 
by  appeal  to  actual  experience,  and  comparison  with 
olaserved  facts,  which  we  possess  in  the  case  of  the 
above-mentioned  sciences.  That  Butler  was  wiser  than 
his  predecessor  in  his  choice  of  method  is  shown  by  the 
far  greater  influence  which  his  works  have  exercised  on 
posterity  than  have  those  of  Clarke,  whose  writings 
are  now  either  wholly  forgotten  or  only  quoted  as  an 
example  of  an  unconvincing  and  exploded  metaphysic. 

The  correspondence  took  place  during  the  last  year 
of  Butler's  residence  at  Tewkesbury,  and  the  same 
period  was  marked  by  a  step  which  even  more  moment- 
ously affected  his  subsequent  career.  It  was  at  this 
time  that  he  resolved  to  quit  the  Presbyterian  com- 
munion in  which  he  had  been  brought  up,  and  for 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


9 


the  ministry  of  which  he  had  hitherto  been  designed, 
and  to  become  a  member  of  the  Chmch  of  England. 
What  were  the  motives  which  induced  him  to  make 
the  change  we  have  no  direct  knowledge.  He  is  him- 
self silent  on  this  as  on  every  other  matter  which 
relates  merely  to  his  own  personal  history.  Seeker, 
when  defending  him  after  his  death  against  the  absurd 
charge  of  Eomanising  which  had  been  brought  against 
him,  assures  us  "  that  he  had  never  been  zealous  in 
his  noncomformity,  but  had  from  a  boy  occasionally 
conformed  and  attended  the  services  of  the  Church 
of  England."  ^  The  great  importance  which  in  several 
passages  in  his  writings  Butler  attaches  to  the  historical 
continuity  of  the  Church,  its  unbroken  life  and  tradi- 
tion,2  shows  that  this  aspect  of  the  National  Church 
must  have  appealed  powerfully  to  his  reason  and  imagin- 
ation ;  while,  as  he  points  out  in  another  place,^  if  it  is 
easy  to  find  objections  to  the  system  which  the  Church 
embodies,  others  equally  great  or  even  more  formidable 
might  be  urged  against  the  constitution  of  any  of  the 
existing  Nonconformist  sects.  In  truth,  while  these 
shared  in  the  lethargy  which  had  overtaken  the  Church, 
they  were  for  the  most  part  wanting  in  the  learning 
and  ability  by  which  in  that  age  the  superior  clergy 
of  the  Established  Church  were  distinguished ;  and  the 
perpetual  feuds  which  they  waged  with  one  another, 
and  the  tendency  they  exhibited  to  divide  up  into  ever 
fresh  sects,  deprived  them  of  the  authority  which  the 
more  powerful  among  them  had  at  an  earlier  date 
commanded.  But  whatever  the  motives  were  which 
induced  him  to  take  the  step,  of  one  thing  we  may 
be  certain,  that  it  was  not  taken  without  careful  and 
anxious  consideration,  and  a  judicial  weighing  of  the 


1  Seeker's  article  in  tlie  Gentleman's  iVagarAne. 
^Analogy,  part  ii.  chap.  i. 

^Sermon  for  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel,  §  17. 


10     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


arguments  to  l)e  urged  on  either  side.  The  whole  east 
of  Butler's  own  temper  and  character,  anxious  and 
careful  even  to  excess,  prechides  any  other  supposition ; 
while  the  strenuousness  of  the  opposition  offered  by  his 
father,  who  is  said  even  to  have  called  in  the  assistance 
of  the  leading  Presbyterian  divines  of  the  time  to 
dissuade  his  son  from  the  course  he  was  meditating, 
would  at  least  secure  that  the  decision  was  taken 
neither  hastily  nor  without  due  reflection. 

When,  however,  the  father  found  that  his  son's  mind 
was  fully  made  up  on  the  matter  he  seems  to  have 
abandoned  further  resistance,  and  he  allowed  him  to 
enter  as  a  commoner  at  Oriel  College,  Oxford,  on  March 
14,  1714 — a  step  taken  with  a  view  apparently  to  liis 
subsequent  ordination.  At  Oriel  Butler  continued  to 
reside  till  he  took  his  B.A.  degree  four  years  later,  October 
18,  1718.  Eespecting  these  years  spent  at  Oxford  we 
know,  unfortunately,  exceedingly  little.  The  university 
at  this  time  was  a  centre  and  hotbed  of  Jacobitism, 
— a  cause  with  which,  both  by  temperament  and  early 
training,  Butler  could  liave  had  ])ut  little  sympathy. 
This  fact,  together  with  his  naturally  reserved  and  de- 
spondent temper,  explains  a  certain  distaste  for  Oxford 
which  there  is  some  evidence  to  show  he  entertained 
during  his  undergraduate  days.  Yet  he  was  not  with- 
ont  friends,  and  deeply  attached  friends.  One  great 
intimacy  we  know  him  to  heiye  contracted,  that  with 
Edward  Talbot,  son  of  the  Bishop  of  Sahsbury,  a  fellow 
of  Oriel  College,  but  also  holding  at  that  time  the  cure 
of  the  little  village  of  West  Hendred  on  the  Berksliii-e 
Downs.  By  Edward  Talbot,  Butler  seems  to  have  been 
introduced  to  his  father,  from  whom  subsequently 
he  received  ordination;  to  his  brother  Charles,  after- 
wards Lord  Chancellor,  to  whom  the  Analogy  was 
dedicated ;  and  to  the  excellent  and  amiable  Martin 
Benson,  student  of  Christ's  Church,  who  remained  his 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


11 


attached  and  lifelong  friend.  Of  Benson,  Bishop 
Porteous  has  preserved  a  charming  portrait  in  his  Life, 
of  Arclbbifilwi)  Seeker.  "  His  purity,"  he  writes,  "  though 
awfully  strict,  was  inexpressibly  amiable.  It  diffused 
such  a  sweetness  through  his  temper  and  such  a 
benevolence  over  his  countenance  as  none,  who  were 
acquainted  with  him,  can  forget."  Yet  in  spite  of 
these  friendships  Butler,  as  we  have  already  said,  seems 
never  to  have  grown  heartily  attached  to  Oxford.  In- 
deed, from  a  letter  written  to  Dr.  Clarke,  September 
30,  1717,  it  appears  that  he  even  had  thoughts  of 
migrating  to  Cambridge,  perhaps  in  order  to  be  near 
to  that  distinguished  man  for  whom  he  always  enter- 
tained a  sincere  admiration.  In  the  letter  he  consults 
Dr.  Clarke  on  the  choice  of  a  tutor  at  Cambridge. 
The  design,  however,  was  from  some  cause  or  other 
abandoned,  and  Butler  continued  to  reside  at  Oriel  till  he 
took  his  B.A.  degree  in  the  October  of  the  following  year. 

A  few  days  after  taking  his  degree  he  was  ordained 
deacon  in  the  private  chapel  of  the  palace  by  his  friend 
the  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  October  28, 1718 ;  and  received 
priest's  orders  from  the  same  hands  in  St.  James's,  West- 
minster, on  December  21st  of  the  same  year.  His 
ordination  as  priest  within  a  few  months  of  his  taking 
deacon's  orders  was  probably  connected  with  his  appoint- 
ment as  preacher  at  the  EoUs  Chapel,  which  took  place 
in  this  same  autumn.  This  appointment,  which  he  re- 
ceived from  Sir  George  Jekyll,  Master  of  the  Eolls,  he 
is  said  to  have  owed  to  the  good  offices  of  his  friends, 
Bishop  Talbot  and  his  sons,  and  to  the  recommendation 
of  his  former  correspondent.  Dr.  Clarke,  now  vicar  of  St. 
James's,  Piccadilly.  During  the  tenure  of  his  preacher- 
ship, — an  office  which  he  continued  to  hold  for  the  next 
eight  years, — Butler  resided  principally  in  London. 
When  he  arrived  in  town  he  found  the  so-called 
Bangorian   controversy  at  its  height.     By  some  he 


12     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


has  been  credited  with  the  authorship  of  an  anonymous 
pamphlet  written  in  support  of  Hoadly,  the  liberal 
Bishop  of  Bangor,  who  pleaded  for  the  purely  spiritual 
character  of  the  Church,  and  for  the  exercise  of  tol- 
eration towards  Dissenters.  The  external  evidence, 
however,  for  connecting  the  pamphlet  with  Butler's 
name  is  extremely  weak ;  and  at  no  period  of  his  life 
does  he  seem  to  have  had  any  relish  for  polemics  and 
ecclesiastical  controversy.  We  may  therefore  dismiss 
the  suggestion  as  improbable.  The  sermons  subse- 
quently published  (which  he  tells  us  ^  were  a  selection, 
taken  more  or  less  at  random,  from  those  preached  in  the 
EoUs  Chapel  during  the  course  of  the  eight  years  for 
which  he  held  the  office  of  preacher)  show  that  his  mind 
was  at  this  time  mainly  occupied,  not  with  any  passing 
topics  of  the  day,  but  with  the  fundamental  questions 
and  problems  of  morals.  Indeed,  the  air  was  at  this 
time  filled  with  such  questions.  Holjbes's  works  were 
probably  still  a  powerful  influence ;  though  the  length 
to  which  Mandeville  had  pushed  his  principles  (his 
Fable  of  the  Bees  had  just  appeared),  and  the  conclu- 
sion he  had  drawn  from  them,  "  That  private  vices  are 
public  benefits,"  had  served  to  alienate  the  sympathy 
of  all  right-thinking  men  from  them,  and  even  to  shock 
the  moral  sense  of  the  commmiity  at  large.  Yet  there 
was  so  much  in  Hobbes's  writings  which  fell  in  with  the 
professed  selfishness  and  semi-avowed  scepticism  of  the 
more  refined  and  educated  classes,  that  we  find  Butler 
selecting  him  as  the  most  formidable  exponent  of  the 
principles  that  he  desired  to  impugn,  and  devoting 
some  of  his  most  telling  pages  to  laying  bare  the  fallacies 
and  misrepresentations  of  human  nature  by  which 
Hobbes's  system  was  supported  and  vitiated. 

Two  other  works  on  morals  were  at  this  time  excit- 
ing much  attention — Shaftesbury's  Characteristics  and 
'  Sermons,  Preface. 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


13 


Samuel  Clarke's  Discourses  concerning  the  UnchangeaUe 
Obligations  of  Natural  Religion  and  the  Trutli  and  Cer- 
tainty of  the  Christian  Bevelation.  The  Characteristics 
had  appeared  only  a  few  years  previously ,i  while  Dr. 
Clarke's  work  was  much  in  vogue,  and  rapidly  passing 
through  various  editions.  Shaftesbury,  Butler  men- 
tions with  approval  in  the  Preface  to  his  Sermons,^ 
but  considers  that  he  had  not  sufficiently  vindicated 
the  claim  of  "  conscience  "  or  "  the  moral  sense,"  to 
speak  with  authority.  Clarke's  method  he  alludes 
to  as  the  most  "  direct  formal  proof  and,  in  some 
respects,  the  least  liable  to  cavil  and  dispute,"  for  treat- 
ing questions  of  morals,  though  he  prefers  himself  to 
adopt  the  humbler,  but  safer,  method  of  a  direct  appeal 
to  the  facts  of  human  nature.  It  is  thus  obvious  that 
moral  questions  were,  as  the  saying  is,  very  much  in 
the  air  ;  and  since  Butler  saw  in  our  moral  beliefs, 
rightly  interpreted,  the  only  sure  foundation  on  which 
religious  systems  can  rest,  we  need  not  wonder  that  he 
devoted  his  earliest  literary  effort  to  the  adequate  ex- 
position and  needful  defence  of  our  fundamental  moral 
convictions. 

Apart  from  the  duties  of  his  office  as  preacher  at 
the  Eolls,  two  matters  of  a  more  personal  and  private 
interest  engaged  much  of  Butler's  thoughts  during  his 
residence  in  London.  The  first  of  these  was  the  death, 
from  smallpox,  of  his  friend  Edward  Talbot,  which  took 
place  two  years  after  his  first  settlement  there,  in  the 
course  of  the  year  1720.  Talbot  is  said  to  have  com- 
mended on  his  deathbed  his  two  friends  Butler  and 
Benson  (with  the  latter  of  whom  he  was  connected  by 
marriage)  to  his  father  for  promotion.  In  compliance 
with  his  son's  dying  wish.  Bishop  Talbot  the  next  year 
conferred  on  Butler  a  prebendal  stall  in  Salisbury 
Cathedral,  a  post  which  he  continued  to  hold  till 
'  111  1711  A.D.  -  Sermons,  Preface,  §  7. 


14     BISHOP  BUTLEE:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WEITINGS 


appointed  Bishop  of  Bristol.  Shortly  afterwards,  on 
his  promotion  to  the  see  of  Durham,  Bishop  Talbot 
confen-ed  on  Benson  a  prebendal  stall  in  his  new 
cathedral. 

The  other  matter  which  engaged  Butler's  attention 
was  a  correspondence  which  at  this  time  he  carried  on 
with  his  friend  Seeker  on  the  subject  of  the  latter  taking 
orders  in  the  Church  of  England.  Seeker  had,  like 
Butler  himself,  been  brought  up  a  Dissenter,  but  had 
not  seen  his  way  to  follow  his  friend  when  Butler  had 
definitely  joined  the  Church.  Instead,  he  had  deter- 
mined to  adopt  the  medical  profession,  and  was  at  this 
time  studying  medicine  in  the  schools  of  Paris.  While 
here  he  was  visited  by  Benson,  then  making  a  foreign 
tour,  whom  Butler  had  apparently  furnished  vnth  a 
letter  of  introduction  to  his  early  friend.  The  joint 
influence  of  Benson  and  Butler  availed  to  induce  Seeker 
to  take  the  step  he  had  been  long  meditating,  and 
definitely  determine  to  join  the  ranks  of  the  clergy  of 
the  Church  of  England.  There  is  no  reason  to  doubt 
that  Seeker  was  actuated  by  conscientious  motives  in 
doing  this,  though  his  decision  may  have  been  quick- 
ened by  a  communication  which  Butler  was  authorised 
by  Bishop  Talbot  to  make  to  him,  that  should  he  see  his 
way  to  becoming  a  clergyman  the  bishop  would  take  care 
that  he  was  not  left  unprovided  for.  Seeker  tells  us  him- 
self that  he  was  largely  determined  to  join  the  Church 
by  the  dissatisfaction  he  felt  with  the  disorders  and  dis- 
turbances which  at  that  time  widely  prevailed  among 
the  dissenting  sects.^  As  soon  as  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  he  hastened  home  and  spent  some  years  at  Exeter 
College,  Oxford,  in  taking  his  degree  and  preparing 
himself  for  the  duties  of  his  new  calling.  Soon  after 
his  ordination  he  married  Catharine  Benson,  sister  of 
Martin  Benson,  and  cousin  and  intimate  friend  of 
'  Life,  by  Porteous. 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


15 


Edward  Talbot's  widow,  aud  was  presented  by  Bishop 
Talbot,  now  become  Bishop  of  Durham,  to  the  living  of 
Houghton-le-Spring,  in  the  county  of  Durham.  This 
was  in  1724. 

Two  years  before  this  Butler  had  himself  received 
the  living  of  Haughton,  near  Darlington,  also  in  the 
bishop's  gift.  This  he  exchanged  some  three  years 
later  for  the  rich  living  of  Stanhope.  On  the  receipt  of 
this  latter  preferment  he  resigned  his  preachei'ship  at 
the  EoUs,  and  took  up  his  permanent  residence  in  the 
north  country,  induced  thereto  mainly,  no  doubt,  by  his 
desire  to  be  near  his  patron,  Bishop  Talbot,  and  his  two 
dear  friends.  Seeker  and  Benson. 

Before  resigning  his  preachership  at  the  Rolls, 
Butler  published  his  Fifteen  Sermons,  gathered,  as 
already  mentioned,  from  many  which  he  had  preached 
during  the  eight  years  for  which  he  had  held  the  office. 
They  were  dedicated  by  him  to  his  patron,  Sir  George 
Jekyll.  At  the  time  they  were  published  they  seem  to 
have  commanded  only  a  fair  measure  of  success,  the 
public  being  repelled  from  them  partly  by  the  inherent 
diiiiculty  of  the  subjects  with  which  they  deal,  still 
more,  perhaps,  by  the  obscure  and  laboured,  though 
manly  and  exact,  style  in  which  they  were  written. 
When,  four  years  later,  a  second  edition  was  called  for, 
Butler,  in  the  Preface  (said  to  have  been  composed  by 
Seeker's  advice  and  in  part  written  with  his  assistance), 
defends  himself  against  the  charge  of  undue  obscurity 
which  had  obviously  been  brought  against  them.  "  The 
obscurity  complained  of,"  he  retorts,  "is  in  great  measure 
to  be  set  down  to  the  unwillingness  which  many  readers 
show  to  give  the  attention  necessary  to  weigh  so 
abstruse  a  subject  as  is  the  more  speculative  aspect  of 
morals " ;  ^  partly,  perhaps,  to  his  having  presumed  a 
greater  knowledge  and  more  intimate  acquaintance 

1  Preface,  §§  4  and  5. 


16     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


with  the  prevailmg  thought  and  tone  of  discussion  on 
the  subject  tlian  many  of  his  readers  actually  possessed ; 
partly  the  very  anxiety  he  felt  to  make  his  meaning 
clear,  precise,  and  unmistakable,  may  in  some  cases 
have  added  to  the  difficulty  of  at  once  taking  in  that 
meaning.  In  order,  however,  to  assist  his  readers  for 
the  future,  he  subjoins  a  sort  of  summary  and  elucida- 
tion of  the  general  drift  of  his  argument,  which  furnishes 
one  of  the  most  valuable  portions  of  the  book. 

Is  the  charge  of  obscurity  thus  brought  against 
Butler,  alike  by  his  own  contemporaries  and  by  many 
critics  since,  well  deserved  ?  On  such  a  matter  the 
reading  public  is  the  only  judge.  A  writer  whom 
most,  even  intelligent,  readers  find  obscure,  is  obscure. 
Tried  by  this  test,  Butler  will  almost  certainly  stand 
convicted.  Most  readers  will  undoubtedly  find  him 
difficult,  many  almost  incomprehensible.  Indeed,  Mr. 
Gladstone  liimself,  the  great  defender  of  Butler's 
mode  of  writing,  admits  a  difficulty  in  following  the 
thought,  by  providing  his  readers  with  headings  to  the 
different  paragraphs  to  guide  them  in  catching  the 
main  drift  of  the  argument.  But  the  obscurity  which 
exists  is  not  the  obscurity  of  a  loose  or  confused 
thinker.  There  was  nothing  loose  or  confused  in 
Butler's  mind ;  quite  the  reverse.  The  difficulty  of 
the  style  arises  from  the  extreme  closeness  and  con- 
tinuity of  the  thought ;  still  more  from  the  caution, 
many-sidedness,  and  conscientiousness  of  the  writer, 
which  would  leave  no  aspect  of  the  question  unprovided 
for,  no  possible  objection  which  might  be  taken  unmet, 
no  necessary  limitation  unexpressed,  no  possible  mis- 
uuderstanding  of  his  meaning  unguarded  against.  A 
man  writing  in  such  a  spu-it — particularly  one  of  Butler's 
anxious  and  even  morbidly  conscientious  temperament 
— could  scarcely  attain  to  a  facile  and  unlaboured  style  ; 
certainly  Butler  would  have  been  less  himself  had  his 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


17 


style  been  less  laboured, — with  him,  even  more  than 
with  most  other  writers,  is  it  true  that  "  the  style  is 
the  man." 

It  was  during  the  quiet  and  retirement  of  the  follow- 
ing years  spent  at  Stanhope  that  Butler  matured  and 
executed  the  great  work  of  his  life.  The  Analogy  of 
Religion,  Natural  and  Revealed,  to  the  Constittition  and 
Course  of  Nature.  That  some  at  least  of  the  topics 
treated  in  it  had  been  long  in  his  mind  is  evident  from 
the  Sermon  ^  upon  the  Ignorance  of  Man,  which  fore- 
shadows the  argument  of  one  of  the  most  important 
chapters  in  the  Analogy.  A  direction  may  further 
have  been  given  to  his  thoughts  by  a  correspondence 
which  he  carried  on  during  his  time  at  Stanhope  with 
Henry  Home  (afterwards  Lord  Kaimes),  the  uncle  of 
David  Hume,  "  upon  the  evidences  of  natural  and 
revealed  religion."  But,  indeed,  the  work  must  for 
many  years  have  engaged  his  thoughts.  As  he  himself 
tells  us,  his  object  was  "to  meet,  as  he  went  along, 
every  reasonable  objection  that  could  be  urged  against 
each  successive  position  that  he  tried  in  turn  to  estab- 
lish." All  this  involved  much  reading,  long  continuous 
thought,  the  careful  weighing  of  many  opposing  con- 
siderations. He  himself  is  the  best  guide  to  the  spirit 
in  which  he  wrote.  "  The  general  evidence  of  religion," 
he  says  in  his  Durham  Charge,  "is  complex  and 
various.  It  consists  of  a  long  series  of  things,  one 
preparatory  to  and  confirming  another,  from  the  verv 
beginning  of  the  world  to  the  present  time.  And  it  is 
easy  to  see  how  impossible  it  must  be,  in  a  cursory 
conversation,  to  unite  all  this  into  one  argument  and 
represent  it  as  it  ought." ^  And  again:  "This  rever- 
ential fear  will  lead  us  to  insist  strongly  on  the  infinite 
greatness  of  God's  scheme  of  government  both  in  extent 
and  duration,  together  with  the  wise  connection  of  its 
1  Sermon  XV.  =  Chanje,  §  8. 

2 


18     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


parts  aud  the  impossibility  of  accounting  fully  for  the 
several  parts,  without  seeing  the  whole  plan  of  Pro- 
vidence to  which  they  relate,  which  is  beyond  the 
utmost  stretch  of  our  understanding.  And  to  all  this 
must  be  added  the  necessary  deficiency  of  human 
language  when  things  divine  are  the  subjects  of  it."^ 
One  who  wrote  with  such  considerations  and  con- 
victions present  to  his  mind  could  by  no  possibility 
write  hastily  or  carelessly,  or  indeed  in  any  other  way 
than  after  weighing  anxiously  and  painfully  every 
argument  used,  and  even  every  word  set  down.  In 
strict  accordance  with  the  principles  here  enunciated 
are  the  characteristics  of  the  Analogy  as  summed  up  by 
Mr.  Pattison :  "  Like  Aristotle's  physical  and  political 
treatises,  the  Analogy  is  a  rdsumi  of  the  discussions  of 
more  than  one  generation.  Its  admirable  arrangement 
only  is  all  its  own.  Its  closely  packed  and  carefully 
fixed  order  speaks  of  many  years'  contrivance.  Its 
substance  is  the  thoughts  of  a  whole  age,  not  barely 
compiled,  but  each  reconsidered  and  digested.  Every 
brick  in  the  building  has  been  rung  before  it  has  been 
relaid,  and  replaced  in  its  true  relation  to  the  complex 
and  various  whole."  ^  Such,  we  instinctively  feel,  was  the 
temper  in  which  the  whole  Analogy  was  composed.  It 
remains,  therefore,  one  of  the  monumental  works  in  our 
language,  a  model,  as  all  competent  critics  aUow,  of  con- 
scientious, judicious,  closely  reasoned,  serious  religious 
writing.  The  work  was  not  published  tiU  1736,  when 
Butler  had  been  at  Stanhope  just  over  ten  years,  and 
was  dedicated  to  Lord  Chancellor  Talbot,  who  had  made 
Butler  his  chaplain  some  three  years  previously.  In 
the  Dedication  Butler  gratefuUy  acknowledges  the  debt 
which  he  owed  alike  to  father  aud  to  son  for  the 
friendship  and  consideration  they  had  extended  to  him. 

»  Charge,  §  10. 

*  Pattison's  Essays,  vol.  ii..  Essay  IL  pp.  75,  76. 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


19 


How  far  the  Analogy  was  an  immediate  success  it 
is  not  easy,  and  it  is  not  necessary,  to  decide.  It  was 
not  a  work  altogether  suited  to  the  taste  of  the  time, 
which  looked  for  something  smarter  and  more  racy 
than  the  judicial  strength  and  sobriety  of  Butler's 
writing.  Even  the  orthodox,  used  to  the  strong  lan- 
guage and  slashing  blows  of  Warburton  or  Bentley, 
regarded  his  style  as  somewhat  too  little  vigorous.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  is  the  evidence  in  its  favour  that  a 
second  edition  was  very  early  called  for,  and  that  Queen 
Caroline  warmly  praised  the  book,  telling  Lord  Hay 
that  she  found  it  very  intelligible,  that  she  had  read 
it  and  understood  it  easily,  "  that  it  was  a  scheme  or 
medium  between  Wollaston  and  Dr.  Clarke,  but  that 
Butler  was  a  little  too  severe  and  expected  too  much 
perfection  in  the  world."  ^  Bishop  Wilson  himself, 
from  whose  Memoir  by  his  son  the  above  extract  is 
taken,  seems  also  to  have  greatly  prized  and  valued  it ; 
while  the  honours  which,  apparently  with  general 
approbation,  were  from  the  date  of  its  publication 
showered  thick  on  Butler,  show  the  high  reputation 
in  which  he  was  held  among  those  in  authority,  even 
if  sometimes  they  failed  to  understand  him. 

But,  in  truth,  Butler  had  already  begun  to  make 
a  name,  and  his  worth  to  be  appreciated,  before 
the  Analogy  appeared.  The  death  of  Bishop  Talbot 
in  1730  had  broken  up  the  little  circle  of  close 
friends  whom  he  had  gathered  round  him  in  the 
Durham  diocese.  Benson  was  the  first  to  go ;  he  was 
appointed  as  early  as  1728  to  the  living  of  Bletch- 
ley  in  Buckinghamshire,  and  six  years  afterwards, 
much  against  his  own  will,  he  became  Bishop  of 
Gloucester.  Seeker  followed  in  1733,  being  in  that 
year  made  Rector  of  St.  James's,  Piccadilly,  while,  three 
years  later,  he  received  the  Bishopric  of  Bristol. 
1  Quoted  in  Keble's  Life  of  Bishop  Wilson,  p.  922. 


20     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


With  bim  went  Edward  Talbot's  widow  and  daugbter 
Catharine,  who,  after  Seeker's  marriage  with  Miss 
Benson,  became  constant  inmates  of  his  home.  As 
they  were  also  attached  friends  of  Butler,  and  often 
stayed  with  bim  at  Stanhope,  he  cannot  but  have  felt 
the  loss  of  their  society.  It  is  not  wonderfvd,  then, 
that  when  in  1733  Lord  Talbot,  just  made  Lord  Chan- 
cellor, nominated  him  his  chaplain,  Butler  should  have 
accepted  the  office,  and  relieved  his  solitude  and  varied 
his  duties  at  Stanhope  by  occasional  visits  to  London. 
In  1736  Lord  Talbot  gave  him  a  stall  in  Eochester 
Cathedral,  and  the  same  year  he  was  appointed  Clerk 
to  the  Closet  by  Queen  Caroline,  having  been  intro- 
duced to  her  by  the  good  offices  of  his  friend  Seeker 
a  short  time  previously.  Between  liim  and  the  Queen 
tliere  soon  grew  up  something  approaching  to  friend- 
ship ;  she,  like  others,  being  touched  by  the  manly 
simplicity  and  unostentatious  piety  of  his  character. 
The  warm  approval  she  expressed  of  the  Analogy  on 
its  first  publication  has  been  already  noticed.  Butler 
was  summoned  by  her  to  join  the  select  circle  of  dis- 
tinguished men  whom  she  invited  to  discuss  every 
evening,  from  seven  to  nine  o'clock,  fundamental  ques- 
tions of  religious  and  philosophic  interest.  Shortly 
before  her  death,  which  occurred  November  20,  1737, 
she  received  at  Hampton  Court  the  Holy  Communion 
at  his  hands,  and  on  her  deathbed  warmly  recom- 
mended him  to  the  king  for  patronage. 

George  li.,  who  was  sincerely,  if  oddly  and  selfishly, 
attached  to  his  wife,  proved  mindfid  in  this,  as  in 
other  matters,  of  the  Queen's  wishes.  Soon  after  her 
death  (as  we  learn  on  the  authority  of  Sir  George 
Jekyll,  Master  of  the  EoUs,  Butler's  earliest  patron  ^) 
he  desired  that  Butler,  as  having  been  Clerk  of  the 
Closet  to  the  Queen,  should  preach  before  him  in  the 

1  Diary  of  Dr.  Wilson,  December  23,  1737. 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


21 


Princess  Amelia's  apartments.  Butler  took  as  his  sub- 
ject that  "  of  being  bettered  by  afflictions,"  and  tlie 
king  professed  himself  so  much  impressed  by  his  dis- 
course that  he  desired  the  sermon  should  be  given 
him,  and  assured  the  preacher  he  would  do  something 
very  good  for  him.  This  promise  he  fulfilled  by  ofier- 
ing  him  in  the  next  year  the  see  of  Bristol,  vacant  by 
the  translation  of  Dr.  Gooch  to  that  of  Norwich.^ 
Butler  seems  to  have  been  disappointed  at  the  choice  of 
the  preferment  thus  proposed  for  him.  The  bishopric 
was  too  small  in  value  to  be  held  alone,  being  worth 
only  £400  a  year,  and  was  too  far  distant  from  Stanhope 
to  be  held  conveniently  with  that  li\-ing.  In  the  letter 
which  he  wrote  to  Walpole  accepting  the  bishopric,  he 
expresses  himself  with  much  freedom  on  this  point. 
"  I  received  yesterday  from  your  own  hand  (an  honour 
which  I  ought  very  particularly  to  acknowledge)  the 
information  that  the  king  had  nominated  me  to  the 
Bishopric  of  Bristol.  I  most  truly  think  myself  very 
highly  obliged  to  his  Majesty,  as  much,  all  things 
considered,  as  any  subject  in  his  dominions,  for  I 
know  no  greater  obligation  than  to  find  the  queen's 
condescending  goodness  and  kind  intentions  towards 
me  transferred  to  his  Majesty.  Nor  is  it  possible 
while  I  live  to  be  without  the  most  grateful  sense  of 
his  favour  to  me,  whether  the  effects  of  it  be  greater 
or  less;  for  this  must  in  some  measure  depend  upon 
accidents.  Indeed,  the  Bishopric  of  Bristol  is  not 
very  suitable  either  to  the  condition  of  my  fortune 
or  the  circumstances  of  my  preferment;  nor,  as  I 
should  have  thought,  answerable  to  the  recommenda- 
tion with  which  I  was  honoured.  But  you  will  excuse 
me,  sir,  if  I  think  of  this  last  with  greater  sensibiKty 
than  the  conduct  of  affairs  will  admit  of.    But  without 

'  Dr.  Gooch  had  succeeded  Seeker,  who  had  now  been  made  Bishop 
of  Oxford. 


22     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


entering  further  into  detail,  I  desire,  sir,  you  will 
please  to  let  his  Majesty  know  that  I  humbly  accept 
this  instance  of  his  favour  with  the  utmost  possible 
gratitude."  The  letter,  as  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold  re- 
minds us,  is  not  exactly  that  of  a  saint ;  it  rings  with 
that  prosaic  way  of  looking  at  things,  that  taking  "a 
reasonable  view  of  them,"  which  was  characteristic  of 
the  early  part  of  the  eighteenth  century ;  but  it  has  at 
least  tliese  merits — it  is  absolutely  free  from  cant,  it 
is  straightforward,  and  it  is  manly ;  in  some  respects  it 
contrasts  favourably  with  other  acceptances  of  office 
which  have  been  more  unctuous. 

Butler  retained  the  see  of  Bristol  for  the  next  twelve 
years,  from  1738  to  his  ti'anslation  to  Durham  in  1750. 
For  the  first  eighteen  months  of  this  term  he  continued 
to  hold  the  rectory  of  Stanhope  along  with  the  bishop- 
ric ;  but  when,  in  1740,  he  was  appointed  by  the  king 
to  the  Deanery  of  St.  Paul's,  lie  resigned  both  Stanhope 
and  the  prebeudal  stall  at  Eochester,  to  which  he 
had  been  presented  by  Lord  Talbot.  After  the  resig- 
nation of  these  two  additional  pieces  of  preferment 
he  was  free  to  divide  his  time  between  his  diocese 
and  London.  To  enable  liim  the  better  to  carry  on 
his  work  in  the  latter  place,  he  bought  himself  a  house 
at  Hampstead,  in  which  he  resided  for  a  considerable 
part  of  the  year,  and  where  he  delighted  hospitably  to 
entertain  his  friends. 

Of  the  spirit  in  which  he  attempted  to  administer 
his  diocese  we  have  an  interesting  record  in  a  medi- 
tation written  by  his  own  hand  which  dates  from 
this  period.^  It  runs  as  follows :  "  Shall  I  not  be 
faithful  to  God  ?  If  He  puts  a  part  upon  me  to  do, 
shall  I  neglect  or  refuse  it  ?  A  part  to  suffer,  and  shall 
I  say, '  I  would  not,  if  I  could  help  it'?  Can  words  more 
ill-sorted,  more  shocking,  be  put  together  ?  And  is 
'  Steere's  Memoir  of  Bishop  BvJler. 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


23 


not  the  thing  expressed  bv  them  more  so,  tho'  not  ex- 
pressed in  words  ?  "What,  then,  shall  I  prefer  to  the  sove- 
reign Good,  supreme  Excellence,  absolute  Perfection? 
To  whom  shall  I  apply  for  diiection  in  opposition  to 
Infinite  Wisdom  ?  To  whom  for  protection  against 
Almighty  Power?  Dated  June  14,  1742."  Of  his 
private  life  at  Bristol  we  have  two  anecdotes  preserved 
by  Dr.  Tucker,  then  his  chaplain,  afterwards  Dean 
of  Gloucester.  The  first  is  the  well-known  story  of 
the  bishop's  speculation  as  to  the  possibihty  of  nations 
going  mad  as  weU  as  individuals.  On  one  occasion,  so 
Tucker  relates,  when  he  was  walking  with  him,  the 
bishop  suddenly  stopped  and  asked :  "  What  security 
is  there  against  the  insanity  of  individuals  ?  —  The 
physicians  know  of  none  "  ;  and  then,  after  a  pause — 
"  Why  may  not  whole  communities  be  seized  with  fits 
of  insanity  as  weU  as  in(.U%-iduals  ?  2s  othing  but  this 
can  accoimt  for  a  great  part  of  what  we  read  in  history."  ^ 
Tucker  also  teUs  us  that  the  bishop  used  at  this  time 
to  walk  in  his  garden  late  at  night  bm-ied  in  medita- 
tion, and  that  he  read  much  of  books  of  devotion  and  of 
the  lives  of  the  saints.  We  also  learn  that  another 
matter  which  engaged  his  attention  during  a  good  deal 
of  these  years  was  the  repaii-  and  renovation  of  the 
episcopal  palace.  He  seems  throughout  his  life  to  have 
been  devoted  to  buildiag ;  and  as  the  palace  at  Bristol, 
when  he  succeeded  to  the  see,  had  fallen  into  a  some- 
what ruinous  condition,  he  foimd  here  ample  opportimity 
for  gi-atifying  his  taste.  He  is  said  to  have  spent 
between  £4000  and£5000  upon  it,  more  than  ten  years' 
income  of  the  see.  As  he  himself  said,  it  would  have 
been  impossible  for  him  to  do  this  had  he  not  been 
helped  by  the  resources  of  the  deanery  of  St.  Paul's. 
In  the  execution  of  the  work  (at  least,  in  the  judgment 
of  the  antiquarian,  Mr.  Cole,  who  visited  Bristol  in 

'  Tucker's  pamphlet,  An  Humble  Address,  etc.,  1775. 


24     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


1746)  he  exhibited  both  skill  and  taste,  being  specially 
careful  to  preserve  every  relic  of  the  past  which  seemed 
of  value  and  interest,  and  to  keep  himself  studiously  in 
the  background.  On  the  chapel  in  particular  he  ex- 
pended great  pains,  renewing  entirely  its  internal 
fittings :  and,  while  retaining  the  ancient  glass  in  the 
east  window,  erecting  underneath  it  a  cross  of  white 
marble  let  into  a  black  background.  The  insertion  of 
such  an  ornament,  though  it  seemed  to  Mr.  Cole  "  simple 
and  to  have  a  good  effect,"  ran  counter  to  the  taste  of 
the  time  and  brought  upon  the  bishop,  while  still  aUve, 
the  charge  of  having  popish  procUvities,  and  after  his 
death  was  used  as  an  argument  to  prove  that  he  had 
actually  joined  the  Church  of  Rome.  That  the  execu- 
tion of  the  work  was  not  without  interest  to  the  people 
of  Bristol  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  some  of  the 
merchants  of  that  city  made  the  bishop  a  present  of  a 
considerable  quantity  of  cedar-wood,  to  be  used  on  the 
fittings  of  the  palace.  Some  of  this,  as  it  was  more 
than  was  required  for  the  work  at  Bristol,  he  took 
with  him  to  Durham,  intending  to  use  it  on  the  repair 
of  the  palace  of  Bishop  Auckland — a  task,  however,  he 
did  not  live  to  accompUsh. 

Two  points  relating  to  the  admiinstration  of  his  diocese 
deserve  a  word  of  notice.  First,  the  care  he  took,  both 
here  and  elsewhere,  in  the  selection  of  suitable  candi- 
dates for  ordination,  and  even  more  for  preferment  and 
promotion.  Laxity  and  negligence  on  the  part  of  the 
bishops  in  these  particulars,  or,  worse  still,  theii'  favour- 
itism and  nepotism,  seem,  on  contemporary  evidence, 
to  have  been  among  the  crying  evils  of  the  time.  In 
a  tract,  which  enjoyed  much  popularity  some  years 
previously,  entitled,  "  Ichabod,  or  the  Five  Groans  of  the 
Church,"  the  evils  complained  of  are,  the  negUgence  of 
the  bishops  as  to  the  persons  whom  they  ordained,  the 
profaneness  of  the  clergy,  the  prevalence  of  simony, 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


25 


pluralities,  aud  nou-residence.  Against  all  such  prac- 
tices Butler  strongly  set  his  face,  no  less  in  London  and 
Durham  than  at  Bristol.  It  was  observed  of  him  that 
he  practised  what  he  preached  as  much  when  his  own 
family  was  concerned  as  when  called  on  to  deal  with 
outsiders.  As  cases  in  point,  we  may  observe  not  only 
that  he  refused  preferment  to  one  of  his  nephews  whom 
he  did  not  think  suitable  for  it,  but  that  he  also  chose  as 
his  chaplain  Mr.  Tucker,  simply  on  the  ground  of  the  work 
he  had  done  as  curate  of  one  of  the  Bristol  churches. 

The  other  point  has  to  do  with  his  treatment  of 
Wesley  and  Whitfield.  Wesley  returned  from  Georgia 
the  year  of  Butler's  consecration,  and  began  his  preach- 
ing at  Kingswood,  a  rough  mining  village  near  Bristol, 
in  the  next  year.  Here  he  was  joined  by  Whitfield. 
The  movement  set  on  foot  by  them  seems  early  to  have 
attracted  the  bishop's  attention,  for  Wesley  has  preserved 
in  his  works  the  minutes  of  a  conversation  held  with 
Butler  in  the  very  next  year.  In  the  course  of  this  the 
bishop,  after  criticising  the  form  of  the  doctrine  of  justi- 
fication by  faith  held  and  taught  by  Wesley,  on  the 
ground  that  it  ascribed  an  arbitrary  character  to  God's 
dealings  with  men,  and  was  not  in  accordance  with  the 
teaching  of  the  Church  of  England  on  the  subject,  finds 
further  and  more  severe  fault  with  the  claims  set  up  by 
Mr.  Whitfield  to  the  possession  of  extraordinary  revela- 
tions and  gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  He  also  censures 
Wesley's  mode  of  administration  of  the  sacraments  in 
the  societies  he  had  founded  (thougli  his  action  in  this 
matter  Wesley  vehemently  affirms  had  been  misrepre- 
sented), and  the  encouragement  which  both  he  and 
Whitfield  gave  to  extravagant  physical  manifestations 
of  emotion  which  prevailed  in  their  religious  services 
and  accompanied  the  sense  of  conversion.  The  inter- 
view ended,  if  Wesley's  memory  served  him  right,  with 
a  refusal  on  the  bishop's  part  to  give  him  his  licence 


26     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


to  preach  in  the  diocese  and  a  claim  on  Wesley's  to 
preach  without  it,  since  he  had  heen  ordained,  not  to 
any  particular  charge,  but  on  the  strength  of  his  college 
fellowship.  In  the  course  of  the  same  year  Butler  carried 
on  also  a  correspondence  with  Whitfield.  Of  this  all  that 
has  been  preserved  is  a  single  reply  of  Whitfield's  to  a 
letter  of  the  bishop's,  now  unfortunately  lost.  From  this 
it  appears  that  Butler  had  showed  himself  not  uuap- 
preciative  of  the  better  side  of  Whitfield's  work,  and  had 
personally  interposed  to  mitigate  the  excessive  zeal  of  his 
chancellor  against  the  new  movement,  and  to  secure  for 
Whitfield  himself  an  opportunity  of  being  heard  in  those 
of  the  churches  of  the  diocese,  the  clergy  of  which  were 
inclined  to  look  favourably  on  the  cause.  Further,  that 
Kingswood  might  not  suffer  from  his  refusal  to  grant 
Wesley  a  licence  to  preach  there,  Butler  set  himself  to 
procure  the  erection  of  a  church  in  this  neighbourhood. 
To  the  church  a  new  parish  was  by  Act  of  Parliament 
annexed,  and  towards  the  endowment  of  this  the 
bishop  himself  contributed  £400  and  obtained  for  it 
an  additional  £200  from  a  lady  of  his  acquaintance. 
Eeviewing  the  whole  incident,  we  should  gather  that 
while  Butler  had  not,  any  more  than  his  contempor- 
aries, the  insight  to  see  the  strength  which  the  move- 
ment of  Wesley  and  Whitfield  might,  if  enlisted  in 
her  service,  liave  brought  to  the  Church  of  England, 
yet  his  criticisms  on  their  action  were  cautious  and  well 
considered,  and  the  movement  was  judged  of  by  him 
in  a  kindly  and  equitable  spirit.  The  anxiety  be  dis- 
played to  make  good  the  defects  which  the  preaching  of 
the  rnissioners  at  Kingswood  had  brought  to  light  is  only 
one  instance  of  what  is  noticeable  in  his  whole  career, 
his  conscientious  desii'e  to  fulfil  loyally  and  exactly  any 
duty  that  was  in  any  way  brought  home  to  him. 

Turning  now  to  the  duties  and  interests  which 
occupied  him  in  London  during  these  years,  we  observe 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


27 


that  in  his  home  at  Hampstead,  which  he  fitted  up  with 
some  maguificeuce  and  taste,^  he  entertained  many  of 
his  friends, — Bishop  and  Mrs.  Seeker,  Bishop  Benson, 
Mrs.  and  Miss  Talbot-  being  among  his  most  constant 
guests.  To  the  public  interests  which  most  engaged 
his  attention  "  The  Six  Sermons  preached  on  Public 
Occasions,"  all  of  them  dehvered  in  London,  and  all  of 
them  falling  within  this  epoch,  furnish  a  pretty  good 
index.  The  earliest  of  them,  preached  in  the  Parish 
Church  of  St.  Mary-le-Bow  on  February  16, 1738  (-39), 
was  the  anniversary  sermon  of  the  Society  for  the 
Propagation  of  the  Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts.  This 
society,  founded  originally  in  the  year  1701,  the  last 
year  of  the  reign  of  William  and  Mary,  had,  since  its 
foundation,  advanced  with  rapid  steps.  Its  operations, 
directed  at  the  outset  solely  to  the  spread  of  the  gospel 
on  the  continent  of  Europe,  had  now  extended  so  as  to 
embrace  almost  all  our  then  existing  colonial  possessions, 
the  North  American  colonies,  Newfoundland,  the  West 
Indies,  and  Nova  Scotia.  In  the  sermon  in  question 
the  bishop  eloquently  defends  the  work  the  society  was 
carrying  on,  alike  among  our  own  people  in  the  colonies, 
and  among  the  natives  in  whose  midst  our  planters  had 
settled.  The  duty  of  giving  support  to  the  work  of  the 
society,  and  other  similar  imdertakings,  is  thus  deduced 
from  the  fundamental  conception  of  the  Church  itself. 

The  original  deposit  of  "  natural  religion  "  having  been 
forgotten  or  almost  allowed  to  die  out  in  the  world,  was 
"  authoritatively  republished,"  with  certain  other  truths 
necessary  to  man's  salvation  added  to  it,  in  the  Christian 
dispensation.  "  But  Christianity  once  pubUshed,  it  was 
left  with  Christians  either  to  transmit  it  pure  and 

^  Some  of  the  stained  glass  with  which  the  staircase  was  adorned 
was  subsequently  presented  to  Oriel  College,  and  is  still  in  the  posses- 
sion of  that  society  ;  but  of  the  details  of  the  gift,  and  even  of  the  name 
of  the  donor,  no  record  seems  to  have  been  preserved. 


28     BISHOP  BUTLEE  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


genuine,  or  to  allow  it  to  be  corrupted  or  forgotten ; 
just  as  the  religion  of  nature  had  before  been  left  with 
mankind  in  general."  But  in  the  case  of  Christians,  God 
further  enjoined  that  they  should  be  united  in  com- 
munities and  visible  churches,  through  the  agency  of 
which  the  truths  of  the  Christian  religion  should  be 
promulgated  and  kept  alive  in  the  world.  "  These  com- 
munities, which  together  make  up  the  CathoUc  Church, 
are  the  repositories  of  the  written  oracles  of  God,  and 
in  every  age  have  preserved  and  published  these  in  every 
country  where  the  profession  of  Christianity  has  obtained; 
and  out  of  these  churches  have  all  along  gone  forth 
persons  who  have  preached  the  gospel  in  remote  places 
with  more  or  less  good  effect."  The  duty  of  the  Church, 
to  bear  witness  to  the  truth  (and  that  equally  whether 
men  will  listen  to  it  or  not),  being  thus  fundamental,  and  it 
being,  further,  God's  will  that  men  should  be  dependent 
on  their  fellow-men  for  instruction  alike  in  the  matters 
of  natural  knowledge  and  of  revealed  truth  (of  the  second, 
indeed,  even  more  than  of  the  first),  it  follows  that 
"  Christianity  is  very  particularly  to  be  considered  as  a 
trust,  deposited  with  us  in  behalf  of  mankind,  as  well 
as  for  our  own  instruction."  "  No  one  hath  a  right  to  be 
called  a  Christian  who  doth  not  do  somewhat  in  his 
station  towards  the  discharge  of  this  trust ;  who  doth 
not,  for  instance,  assist  in  keeping  up  the  profession  of 
Christianity  where  he  lives."  "  And  it  is  an  obligation 
but  little  more  remote  to  assist  in  doing  it  in  our  factories 
abroad,  and  in  the  colonies  to  which  we  are  related  by 
their  being  peopled  from  our  own  mother-country,  and 
subjects  (indeed,  very  necessary  ones)  to  the  same 
government  with  om-selves ;  and  nearer  yet  is  the  obliga- 
tion upon  such  persons,  in  particular,  as  have  the  inter- 
com-se  of  an  advantageous  commerce  with  them."  He 
goes  on  to  plead  in  the  same  way  the  obligation  we  are 
under  to  instruct  the  slaves,  "  who  ought  to  be  considered 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


29 


as  inferior  members,  and  therefore  to  be  treated  as  mem- 
bers of  our  colonies  " ;  and  the  natives  who,  too,  "  have 
a  claim  on  oiu-  charity  both  fi'om  neighboui'hood  and 
also  from  our  ha^"ing  gotten  possessions  in  their  coimtry." 
Oiu-  trade  and  commerce  would  thus  be  "  consecrated," 
if  made  the  means  of  propagating  religion  in  every 
country  with  which  we  have  intercourse.  And  this 
preaching  of  the  gospel,  even  if  not  crowned  with 
general  and  immediate  success,  is  at  anjTate  a  witness. 
It  will  sm-ely  bear  fruit  in  due  season,  and  will  take 
possession  at  once  of  some  few  who  are  the  salt  of  those 
among  whom  they  live.  "  The  design  before  us  being 
thus,  in  general,  imexceptionally  good,  it  were  much  to 
be  wished  that  serious  men  of  all  denominations  would 
join  in  it."  He  accordingly  appeals  to  Dissenters  to 
lay  aside  theii-  prejudices  and  support  the  Chm-ch  in 
this  great  undertaking,  even  though  they  should  think 
some  of  her  methods  liable  to  objection.  Tlie  spread  of 
Christianity  abroad  cannot  but  react  upon  religion  at 
home,  and  so  diminish  the  evils  of  profaneness  and 
atheism,  and  of  that  which  grows  out  of  them  as  a 
necessary  consequence,  the  spread  of  superstition,  these 
being  the  special  dangers  by  which,  in  his  belief,  his  age 
and  country  were  threatened.  To  stem  such  evils  was 
a  task  too  great,  he  held,  for  indi\'iduals ;  it  covdd  only 
he  done,  if  done  at  all,  by  the  help  of  organised  societies 
like  that  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel. 

Butler's  interest  in  the  society  was,  however,  by  no 
means  confined  to  preaching  an  occasional  sermon  in  its 
behalf.  In  conjunction  with  his  friends  Seeker  and 
Benson,  he  continued  throughout  his  hfe  to  promote 
and  watch  over  its  concerns. 

One  special  matter  in  connection  with  it  which 
much  exercised  his  thoughts  was  the  provision  of 
bishops  for  our  North  American  colonies.  Technically, 
these  colonies  were  within  the  diocese  and  imder  the 


30     BISHOP  BUTLEE:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


charge  of  the  Bishop  of  London;  practically,  they  received 
no  episcopal  supervision  at  all.  Butler  strenuously  ad- 
vocated a  plan  for  providing  them  with  bishops  of  their 
own.  To  meet  the  objections  which  were  sure  to  be 
taken  to  such  a  proposal,  he  drew  up  the  following 
memorandum  as  to  the  terms  on  which  it  was  desir- 
able that  bishops  should  be  appointed  : — 

"  1.  That  no  coercive  power  is  desired  over  the  laity 
in  any  case,  but  only  a  power  to  regulate  the  behaviour 
of  the  clergy  who  are  in  episcopal  orders ;  and  to  cor- 
rect and  punish  them  according  to  the  laws  of  the 
Church  of  England  in  case  of  misbehaviour  or  neglect 
of  duty,  with  such  power  as  the  commissaries  abroad 
have  exercised. 

"  2.  That  nothing  is  desired  for  such  bishops  that 
may  in  the  least  interfere  with  the  dignity  or  authority 
or  interest  of  the  Governor,  or  any  other  office  of  State. 
Probates  of  wills,  licences  for  marriages,  etc.,  to  be 
left  in  the  hands  where  they  are ;  and  no  share  in  the 
temporal  government  is  desired  for  the  bishops. 

"  3.  The  maintenance  of  such  bishops  not  to  be  at 
the  charge  of  the  colonies. 

"  4.  No  bishops  are  intended  to  be  settled  in  places 
where  the  government  is  left  in  the  hands  of  Dissenters, 
as  in  New  England,  etc. ;  but  authority  to  be  given  only 
to  ordain  clergy  for  such  Church  of  England  congre- 
gations as  are  among  them,  and  to  confirm  the  members 
thereof." 

So  strong,  however,  was  the  detestation  still  felt  in 
the  colonies  for  the  memory  of  Laud,  that  neither  at 
this  time  nor  at  a  later  date,  when,  after  the  death  of 
Butler  and  Benson,  the  plan  was  revived  by  Seeker, 
then  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  could  even  so  moderate 
and  reasonable  a  proposal  be  carried  through ;  and  the 
episcopal  congregations  in  the  North  American  colonies 
were  ultimately  driven  to  seek  consecration  for  theii- 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


31 


first  bishops,  not  from  the  Church  of  England,  hut  from 
the  Episcopal  Church  of  Scotland. 

Besides  attending  to  its  affairs  during  his  life,  Butler 
at  his  death  left  a  legacy  of  £500  to  the  Society  for  the 
Propagation  of  the  Gospel. 

The  second,  fourth,  and  sixth  sermons  are  closely 
allied  in  their  subjects,  and  may  well  be  discussed  to- 
gether. The  first  of  them,  preached  before  the  Eight 
Hon.  the  Lord  Mayor,  the  Court  of  Aldermen,  the 
Sheriffs,  and  the  governors  of  the  several  hospitals  of 
the  city  of  London,  at  the  Parish  Church  of  St.  Bridget, 
on  Monday  in  Easter  week  1740,  sets  forth  the  general 
principles  on  which  the  obligations  on  the  part  of  the 
rich  to  charity  and  almsgiving  to  the  poor  rest.  In  it, 
after  showing  how  riches  gradually  emerge  in  the 
natural  development  of  society,  the  bishop  proceeds  to 
point  out  how  the  possession  of  riches  by  one  class 
necessarily  puts  them  in  a  position  of  power  and  in- 
fluence as  towards  the  poorer  classes  who  are  dependent 
on  them.  But  this  position  of  power  and  influence 
inevitably  entails  corresponding  duties.  In  early  days, 
when  the  dependants  were  reckoned  as  slaves  and  actual 
members  of  the  families  in  whose  employ  they  were, 
the  duties  owed  towards  them  could  scarcely  be  over- 
looked, but  these  duties  remain  none  the  less  real  and 
obligatory,  though  the  progress  of  society  has  caused  a 
greater  separation  between  class  and  class.  The  obli- 
gations consist  partly  in  educating  the  poor  in  habits 
of  virtue  and  the  principles  of  religion,  partly  in  set- 
ting a  good  example  to  them,  jiartly  in  relieving  their 
necessities  when  sickness  or  other  misfortune  overtakes 
them.  In  conclusion,  Butler  urges  that  in  supporting 
the  public  hospitals  of  London  the  rich  are  fulfilling 
these  different  obligations  in  the  best  and  most  satis- 
factory way. 

The  two  other  sermons  above  mentioned,  the  fourth 


32     BISHOP  BUTLEE  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


and  sixth,  apply  the  principles  thus  laid  down  to  two 
special  departments  of  duty.  In  the  first  of  these, 
preached  in  the  eventful  year  1745,  on  behalf  of  the 
"  charity  schools  in  and  about  the  cities  of  London  and 
Westminster,"  Butler  pleads  earnestly  the  cause  of  the 
education  of  the  children  of  the  poor.  Education  meant 
to  him,  as  it  has  meant  to  abnost  all  sensible  men,  a 
religious  education ;  and  he  sees  in  such  an  education 
the  best  safeguard  against  the  spread  of  atheism  and 
immorality,  by  which,  like  many  others  of  that  day,  he 
believed  the  safety  and  well-being  of  the  nation  to  be 
threatened.  Charity  schools,  as  we  learn  from  the 
sermon  itself,  were  then  comparatively  a  novel  insti- 
tution, and  exception  seems  in  many  quarters  to  have 
been  taken  to  them,  on  the  ground  that  they  educated 
the  children  above  their  station  in  life,  and  so  tended 
to  make  them  discontented  with  their  condition. 
While  not  positively  denying  that  this  might  be  the 
result,  Butler  points  out  that  the  public  are  under  a 
positive  obligation  to  confer  such  education  on  these 
children.  This  obligation  he  bases,  firstly,  on  the  for- 
lorn condition  of  poor  children,  which  in  itself  makes 
them  an  object  of  pity  to  all  right-minded  men ;  and 
secondly,  on  the  fact  that,  since  children  are  endowed 
with  an  equal  capacity  for  acquiring  evil  or  good  habits, 
it  is  certain  they  will  drift  into  the  former  if  they  have 
not  the  latter  instilled  into  them.  Their  whole  life  is 
necessarily  surrounded  by  many  corrupting  influences, 
to  which  they  are  only  too  likely  to  succumb  unless 
fortified  by  education  against  them.  Further,  he 
pleads  that  while  the  poor  law  of  Elizabeth  had  made 
provision  that  those  who  were  unable  to  support  them- 
selves were  not  to  be  allowed  to  starve,  it  made  no 
similar  provision  for  the  education  of  children  who 
had  either  no  parents  living  at  all,  or  whose  parents 
were  unable  to  provide  them  with  the  necessary  educa- 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


33 


tion ;  but  for  such  children  education  is  scarcely  less  a 
necessary  than  is  the  provision  of  food  for  those  no 
longer  able  to  work.  To  this  must  be  added  that  the 
introduction  of  printing,  and  the  spread  of  general 
education  which  has  followed  from  it,  have  left  those 
who  are  unable  to  obtain  an  education  relatively  worse 
off  than  they  would  have  been  in  an  age  when  they 
would  have  had  to  compete  with  others  who  were  as 
little  educated  as  themselves ;  what  has  been  others' 
gain  having  proved  in  this  way  their  loss.  Thus  it  is 
only  fair  and  just  that  steps  should  be  taken  on  this 
ground  alone  to  redress  the  balance. 

The  fear  that  by  education  children  will  be  ren- 
dered unfit  for  their  station  in  life  he  next  combats  in 
a  number  of  different  ways.  In  the  first  place,  the  rich, 
he  urges,  by  a  good  system  of  moral  and  religious 
education,  might  be  rendered  more  fit  for  tlie  discharge 
of  those  duties  which  they  now  so  often  and  so  disas- 
trously neglect ;  but  if  education  could  do  thus  much  for 
those  who  have  so  much  greater  advantages  and  oppor- 
tunities, how  truly  indispensable  must  it  be  for  those, 
all  the  circumstances  of  whose  lives  are  so  much  against 
them? 

Or  take,  again,  he  continues,  the  case  of  children  who 
are  not  without  parents,  but  whose  parents  are  evil  or 
profligate,  how  certain  is  it  that  such,  imless  they  have 
some  coimtervailing  principles  instilled  into  them,  will, 
by  the  close  association  into  which  they  are  necessarily 
brought  with  their  parents,  imbibe  the  same  evil  habits 
and  practices  which  they  see  everywhere  around  them. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  habits  of  order  and  discipUne 
which  are  inculcated  at  school  must  do  something  to 
mitigate  and  diminish  the  evil  tendencies  from  which 
otherwise  such  children  would  suffer,  while  they  are 
removed,  at  least  for  a  time,  from  their  evil  surroundings. 
Further,  it  is  proposed,  as  far  as  possible,  to  combine 
3 


34     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


in  these  schools  instruction  in  manual  crafts  with  the 
more  purely  intellectual  education,  and  care  will  be 
taken,  as  far  as  possible,  to  find  suitable  situations  for 
the  children  when  they  leave  school.  By  these  means 
it  is  hoped  that  any  possible  ill-effects  there  may  be 
in  the  way  of  unfitting  the  children  for  their  normal 
station  in  life  may  be  mitigated,  if  not  entirely  removed.^ 
To  us  many  of  the  objections  taken  to  such  schools 
seem  frivolous  or  absurd ;  but  those  who  can  remember 
how,  even  as  lately  as  thirty  years  ago,  very  similar 
objections  were  to  be  heard  against  the  adoption  of  any 
general  system  of  national  education,  will  recognise 
that  it  required  not  a  Little  courage  on  Butler's  part  to 
plead  thus  boldly  and  unflinchingly  the  right  of  these 
children  to  be  educated,  as  it  also  showed  no  little  insight 
to  perceive  that  the  balance  of  advantage  must  Lie  not 
on  the  side  of  keeping  them  in  ignorance,  but  on  that 
of  supplying  them  with  so  much  in  the  way  of  educa- 
tion and  instruction  as  they  were  fitted  to  receive. 

As  in  the  Fourth  Sermon  Butler  pleaded  the  cause  of 
the  Charity  Schools,  so  in  the  Sixth  he  pleads  that  of 
the  London  Hospitals.  Both  were  causes  which  he 
seems  to  have  had  very  much  at  heart.  In  the  Second 
Sermon  he  had  already  spoken  with  pride  of  the  excel- 
lent management  of  the  Bristol  Infirmary ,2  with  which 
his  position  as  bishop  of  the  diocese  had  brought  him 
into  connection.  When  he  moved  to  Durham  one  of 
his  first  acts  was  to  become  a  subscriber  to,  and  advo- 
cate the  claims  of,  the  then  newly  founded  Newcastle 
Infirmary.  In  the  picture  of  him  in  the  possession  of 
Durham  University  he  is  painted  with  the  plans  of  it  in 
his  hand.  Perhaps  his  own  feeble  health  made  him  more 
awake  than  others  to  the  obligation  of  relieving  the 
sufferings  of  the  sick.  At  anyrate,  in  this  sermon  he 
dwells  with  much  force  and  eloquence  on  the  obliga- 

i§§19and22.  =§  16  and  note. 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


35 


tions  Christiaus  are  under  not  only  to  charity  in 
general,  but  to  that  particular  form  of  it  which  consists 
in  ministering  to  the  relief  of  disease  and  the  casualties 
of  the  poor.  Such  assistance  can  best  be  given,  he 
urged,  by  public  infirmaries,  and  in  many  cases  these 
are  the  only  possible  means  by  which  such  help  can  be 
given  at  all.  But  just  as  objection  had  been  taken,  by 
those  who  prided  themselves  on  their  enlightenment, 
to  charity  schools,  and  the  education  given  in  them,  so, 
too,  had  objection  been  taken  to  medical  dispensaries. 
The  objections  were  based,  in  the  first  place,  on  the 
ground  that  such  institutions  tended  to  do  away  with 
the  natural  penalties  which  were  attached  to  certain 
kinds  of  sin,  drunkenness  and  profligacy,  for  instance  ; 
and  secondly,  on  the  supposed  tendency  of  such  institu- 
tions to  deter  the  poor  from  making  reasonable  pro- 
vision against  evils  which  might  be  foreseen,  and  could 
therefore  be  met  by  ordinary  prudence.  To  the  first 
of  these  objections  Butler  replies  that  the  rich  are  not 
deterred  in  their  own  case  from  making  use  of  such 
remedies  and  alleviations  as  have  been  discovered  for 
their  diseases  by  the  consideration  that  many  of  their 
diseases  have  been  the  "  natural  "  results  of  their  own 
sins  and  their  own  follies ;  and  it  is  clearly  unjust  to 
mete  out  to  the  poor  a  severity  which  we  should  not 
think  of  enforcing  against  ourselves,  or  those  in  the 
same  rank  with  us.  Nor  is  it  possible,  again,  to  dis- 
tinguish with  any  approach  to  accuracy  between  those 
evils  and  diseases  which  have  been  brought  upon  the 
poor  by  what  properly  may  be  considered  their  own 
fault,  and  those  which  are  due  to  circumstances  over 
which  they  have  but  little,  if  any,  control.  But  we 
may  go  further  than  this  and  say  with  Butler,  that  the 
very  example  of  God  Himself — Who  "  is  kind  to  the 
unthankful  and  the  evil,  and  seudeth  His  rain  on  the 
just  and  on  the  unjust " — should  be  a  warning  to  us 


36     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


against  too  narrowly  restricting  our  charity,  a  warning 
which  our  Lord  has  expressly  enforced.  And  once 
more,  it  is  pertinent  to  observe,  that  if  in  some  cases 
diseases  and  consequent  pains  are  affixed  by  way  of 
natural  deterrents  to  certain  vices  and  evil  courses  of 
behaviour,  yet  the  fact  that  God  has  allowed  means  of 
mitigating  such  pains,  and  of  curing  such  diseases,  to  be 
discovered  is  in  itself  a  proof  that  He  intended  such 
remedies  to  be  used,  and  such  means  of  mitigation  re- 
sorted to.  Indeed,  from  one  point  of  view  we  may  say 
that  the  whole  scheme  of  Christianity  is  an  instance  of 
how  God  allows  us  to  escape  from  the  "  natural "  conse- 
quences of  our  sins  and  wrong  behaviour  by  the  use  of 
means  which  He  has  Himself  provided.  As  a  set-off 
to  whatever  remote  mischief  might  conceivably  be  done 
by  mitigating  the  natural  consequences  of  vice,  it  is  to 
be  remembered  that  infirmaries  for  the  sick  poor,  if 
properly  conducted,  should  in  themselves  prove,  in 
virtue  of  theii"  religious  character,  the  good  order  ob- 
served in  them,  and  the  charity  they  exliibit,  a  potent 
means  of  moral  and  religious  reformation  and  improve- 
ment ;  and  in  many  cases  they  have  actually  been  found 
to  produce  such  results. 

To  the  objection  that  the  poor  are  deterred  from 
making  adequate  provision  for  themselves  by  the  exist- 
ence of  such  infirmaries,  it  is  sufficient,  he  says,  to  answer 
that  the  wants  of  the  poor  are  in  this  respect  more  than 
it  is  in  any  way  possible  for  them  to  meet ;  the  very  cir- 
cumstances of  their  homes  make  the  satisfactory  coping 
with  disease  an  impossibility,  and  those  who  maintain 
the  opposite  only  show  that  they  have  no  real  know- 
ledge of  the  poor  or  of  their  mode  of  living.  The  very 
rule  that  has  to  be  enforced  in  almost  all  hospitals,  that 
none  who  are  suffering  from  incui'able  diseases  can 
be  received,  furnishes  in  itself  a  proof  how  great  is 
the  pressure  for  admission  from  those  who  are  likely  to 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


37 


be  benefited  by  obtaining  it.  But  a  system  which  is 
forced  to  reject,  on  grounds  of  humanity,  all  those  who 
are  incurably  ill  cannot  be  regarded  as  satisfactory  or 
adequate.  And  so  the  bishop  ends  with  a  stirring 
appeal  to  all  classes  to  join  in  so  excellent  a  work, 
pointing  out  that  all  those  who  contribute  anything  to 
the  well-being  of  the  community  are  in  a  real  sense  the 
servants  of  those  to  whom  they  minister ;  and  so,  apart 
from  the  mere  fact  of  neighbourhood,  have  special 
claims  on  the  charity,  interest,  and  sympathy  of  all 
other  members  of  the  same  society. 

The  two  remaining  sermons,  the  Third  and  Fifth,  both 
of  them  preached  before  the  House  of  Lords, — the  one 
on  the  anniversary  of  the  martyrdom  of  King  Charles  I., 
in  the  year  1741,  the  other  on  the  anniversary  of  the 
accession  of  King  George  ii.  in  the  year  1747, — throw 
some  interesting  light  on  Butler's  political  position  and 
opinions.  Both  from  sentiment  and  conviction  Butler 
was  a  convinced  supporter  of  the  house  of  Hanover. 
His  hereditary  traditions  would  naturally  incline  him  to 
that  side,  and  his  reason  confirmed  what  early  tradition 
suggested.  For  Queen  Caroline  he  seems  to  have  enter- 
tained in  the  latter  years  of  her  life  a  genuine  regard, 
and  the  feeling  would  appear  to  have  been  reciprocated 
by  the  queen  herself.  After  her  death  these  friendly 
feelings  were  to  a  large  extent  transferred  to  the  king. 
We  have  seen  how  the  king  selected  Butler  to  preach  to 
him  privately  after  the  queen's  death,  and  how  deeply 
he  was  touched  by  the  sermon  that  Butler  then 
delivered.  It  was  shortly  after  this  that  he  raised 
him  to  the  Bishopric  of  Bristol;  and  though  Butler 
seems  to  have  felt  the  preferment,  when  the  ofl'er  was 
first  made  to  him,  inconvenient  and  inadequate,  the 
king  showed  his  genuine  wish  to  consult  his  interests 
by  adding  to  it  shortly  afterwards  the  Deanery  of  St. 
Paul's.    It  is  said  that  later  on  the  king  pressed  on 


38     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WEITINGS 


his  acceptance  the  Ai'chbishopric  of  Canterbury ;  and 
though  Butler  felt  himself,  both  on  account  of  his 
general  self-depreciation  and  despondency,  and  also  by 
reason  of  his  fading  health,  unable  to  accept  the  post,^ 
it  seems  to  have  been  also  at  the  king's  desire  that  the 
great  see  of  Durham  was  offered  to  him.  There  must 
have  been  many  sides  of  the  king's  conduct  which  the 
bishop  can  by  no  means  have  approved  ;  but  Butler 
speaks  of  him  in  the  latter  of  these  two  sermons  with 
genuine  warmth  as  an  excellent  constitutional  sovereign, 
and  denounces  with  a  good  deal  of  severity  the  ex- 
aggerated or  unfounded  charges  which  the  wits  allowed 
themselves  to  brmg  against  him  as  well  as  against 
others  who  were  in  authority. 

The  judicial  murder  of  Charles  I.  Butler  denounces 
as  one  of  those  acts  in  which  "  liberty  "  was  employed  as 
a  "  cloak  of  maliciousness."  Those  who  took  part  in  it 
were  probably,  he  urges,  self-deceived,  i.e.  it  was  a  case 
in  which  men  represented  an  obviously  wrong  act  to 
themselves  as  something  other  than  it  really  was; 
scarcely  any  tyranny  will  justify  the  forcible  overthrow 
of  an  existing  government,  so  great  are  the  certain  and 
inevitable  evils  which  follow  even  from  the  successful 
execution  of  such  an  act ;  or  at  anyrate  such  an  over- 
throw is  only  justified  when  those  who  undertake  it 
see  pretty  clearly  what  order  of  things  they  propose  to 
substitute  for  that  of  which  they  are  planning  the  sub- 
version; but  in  the  revolution  which  ended  in  the 
execution  of  Charles  i.  no  such  foresight  was  exercised, 
and  the  inevitable  result  was  that  there  was  established 
in  the  name  of  liberty  a  worse  tyranny  by  far  than  that 
which  the  revolution  attempted  to  get  rid  of. 

The  Fifth  Sermon  derives  a  good  deal  of  its  interest 

'  According  to  a  well-known  story,  he  is  said  to  have  declined  the 
post  on  the  ground  that  it  was  too  late  for  him  to  try  to  support  a 
falling  Church. 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


39 


from  the  fact  that  it  was  preached  in  1747,  the  year 
which  followed  the  suppression  of  the  rising  of  1745. 
Butler  takes  for  his  text  those  verses  from  1  Timothy  in 
which  St.  Paul  exhorts,  "  that  first  of  all,  supplications, 
prayers,  intercessions,  and  giving  of  thanks,  be  made  for 
all  men ;  for  kings,  and  all  that  are  in  authority  ;  that  we 
may  lead  a  quiet  and  peaceable  life  in  all  godliness  and 
honesty."  ^  The  leading  of  such  a  life  is,  says  Butler, 
what  should  be  our  chief  aim  in  our  passage  through 
the  present  world,  and  this  aim  can  only  be  satisfactorily 
attained  under  a  settled  and  orderly  government,  under 
which  justice  is  duly  and  impartially  administered.  A 
constitutional  monarchy,  he  urges,  such  as  exists  in 
England  under  the  present  regime,  supporting  as  it 
does  a  tolerant  and  liberal  National  Church,  furnishes 
the  happiest  instance  of  such  a  government,  and  gives, 
therefore,  the  best  security  that  men  may  be  able  to 
reahse  the  reasonable  aim  of  their  life  on  earth.^  In  the 
maintenance  of  such  a  system  (threatened  though  it 
was  in  that  day  partly  by  the  ever-spreading  growth  of 
licentiousness,  partly  by  the  wanton  and  unmeasured 
attacks  levelled  at  it  by  thoughtless  or  mischievous 
men)  Butler  saw  the  surest  safeguard  alike  against  the 
pretensions  and  encroachments  of  the  Church  of  Eome, 
and  against  that  spirit  of  anarchy  and  lawlessness  which 
is  sure  to  lead,  either  directly  or  in  the  way  of  natural 
reaction,  to  a  revival  of  superstition  and  tyranny. 
Liberty,  which  if  rightly  used  he  regards  as  one  of  the 
greatest  of  blessings,  can  only  be  enjoyed  under  a 
government  by  which  wrong  is  repressed  and  the  right- 
ful claims  of  all  enforced.  The  recent  outbreak  under 
the  Pretender  should  have  the  effect  of  making  men 
more  conscious  of  the  blessings  they  enjoy,  and  more 
observant  of  such  conduct  as  shall  ensure  them  these 
blessings,  and  guard   most   effectually  against  any 

'  1  Tim.  ii.  1,  2.  -  §§  3  and  5. 


40     BISHOP  BUTLEK:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WEITINGS 


attempts,  the  success  of  which  would  mfallibly  rob  them 
of  them. 

The  offer  of  the  see  of  Durham  came  to  Butler  iu 
July  1750,  when  he  was  fifty-eight  years  old,  and 
apparently  direct  from  the  king  himself,  who  was  then 
at  Hanover.  One  motive  which  influenced  him  in 
accepting  it  was  the  desire  to  renew  his  connection 
with  a  part  of  the  country  where  so  many  eventful 
years  of  his  life  had  been  passed,  and  where  he  had  left 
behind  him  many  attached  friends.  His  nomination 
was  received  in  the  north  with  the  greatest  enthusiasm. 
There  have  been  preserved  the  somewhat  fulsome  docu- 
ment in  which  the  subdean,  on  the  part  of  the 
chapter,  gave  expression  to  their  feelings  of  pleasure, 
and  the  bishop's  cordial,  but  short  and  dignified,  reply 
to  it.  Of  the  feelings  with  which  Butler  himself  entered 
on  his  new  duties  we  have  an  interesting  record  in  two 
letters  to  friends  who  had  written  to  congratidate  him 
on  his  promotion.  "  If,"  he  writes  in  the  first  of  these, 
"  one  is  enabled  to  do  a  little  good  and  to  prefer  worthy 
men,  this  is  indeed  a  valuable  of  hfe,  and  will  afford 
satisfaction  at  the  close  of  it ;  but  the  change  of  station 
in  itself  will  by  no  means  answer  the  trouble  of  it,  and 
of  getting  into  new  forms  of  living ;  I  mean,  in  respect 
to  the  peace  and  happiness  of  one's  own  mind,  for  in 
fortune,  to  be  sure,  it  will."  ^ 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  congratulations,"  he 
writes  to  another  friend, "  though  I  am  not  without  my 
doubts  and  fears,  how  far  the  occasion  of  them  is  a  real 
subject  for  congratulation  to  me.  Increase  of  fortune 
is  insignificant  to  one  who  thought  he  had  enough  be- 
fore ;  and  I  foresee  many  difficulties  iu  the  station  I  am 
coming  into,  and  no  advantage  worth  thinking  of,  except 
some  greater  power  of  being  serviceable  to  others ;  and 
whether  this  be  an  advantage  entirely  depends  on  the 

'  Steere's  Memoir,  pp.  si,  xli. 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


41 


use  one  shall  make  of  it ;  I  pray  God  it  may  be  a  good 
one.  It  would  be  a  melancholy  thing  in  the  close  of 
life  to  have  no  reflections  to  entertain  one's  self  with, 
but  that  one  had  spent  the  revenues  of  the  Bishopric  of 
Durham  in  a  sumptuous  course  of  living,  and  enriched 
one's  friends  with  the  promotions  of  it,  instead  of  having 
really  set  one's  self  to  do  good  and  promote  worthy  men  ; 
yet  this  right  use  of  fortune  and  power  is  more  difficult 
than  the  generality  of  even  good  people  think,  and  re- 
quires both  a  guard  upon  oneself  and  a  strength  of 
mind  to  withstand  solicitations  greater  (I  wish  I  may 
not  find  it)  than  I  am  master  of."^ 

The  government  proposed  to  make  certain  arrange- 
ments as  conditions  of  his  translation.  They  proposed 
to  separate  the  Lord-Lieutenancy  from  the  bishopric, 
and  they  wished  to  make  a  bargain  with  him,  that  if 
his  friend  Seeker  were  nominated  as  his  successor  in 
the  Deanery  of  St.  Paul's,  then  he  should  undertake  to 
nominate  Dr.  Chapman  to  the  stall  in  Durham  Cathe- 
dral, which  Seeker's  promotion  would  leave  vacant. 
Butler,  however,  flatly  refused  to  accept  the  bishopric 
with  any  conditions  attached  to  his  acceptance ;  he 
was  unwilling  that  the  dignity  of  the  see  should  suffer 
any  diminution  as  the  result  of  his  appointment,  while 
the  disposal  of  preferment  he  regarded  as  a  sacred 
trust,  and  so  held  that  it  would  be  absolutely  wrong  to 
make  any  bargains  respecting  it.  He  was  bound,  he 
thought,  to  appoint  to  any  post  the  man  whom,  all 
things  considered,  he  regarded  as  best  qualified  to  fill 
it.2  Owing  to  the  king's  absence  in  Hanover  a  good 
deal  of  time  was  spent  in  these  negotiations  and  in 
other  necessary  arrangements,  and  it  appears  from  the 
bishop's  diary  that  he  did  not  actually  move  to  Bishop- 
Auckland  till  the  early  part  of  the  next  year. 

'  Steere's  Memoir,  p.  xli. 

^  Gladstone,  vol.  ii.,  Ajipendix  ;  letter  to  tlie  Duke  of  Newcastle. 


42     BISHOP  BUTLER  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


Of  his  impressions  of  the  place,  of  the  plans  he  had 
formed,  and  the  occupations  which  filled  his  time,  we 
have  an  interesting  record  in  a  letter  written  by  him 
this  year  to  the  Duchess  of  Somerset : — 

"  1  had  a  mind  to  see  Auckland  before  I  wrote  to 
your  Grace,  and  as  you  take  so  kind  a  part  in  every- 
thing which  contributes  to  my  satisfaction,  I  am  sure 
you  will  be  pleased  to  hear  that  the  place  is  a  very 
agreeable  one,  and  fully  answering  expectations,  except 
that  one  of  the  chief  prospects,  which  is  very  pretty 
(the  River  Wear,  with  hills  much  diversified  rising 
above  it)  is  too  bare  of  wood ;  the  park  not  much  amiss 
as  to  that,  but  I  am  obliged  to  pale  it  anew  all  round, 
the  old  pale  being  quite  decayed.  This  will  give  an 
opportunity,  with  which  I  am  much  pleased,  to  take 
in  forty  or  fifty  acres  competently  wooded,  though  with 
that  enlargement  it  will  scarcely  be  sufficient  for  the  hos- 
pitality of  the  country.  These,  with  some  little  improve- 
ments and  very  great  repairs,  take  up  my  leisure  time. 

"  Thus,  Madam,  I  seem  to  have  laid  out  a  very  long  life 
for  myself ;  yet,  in  reality,  everything  I  see  puts  me  in 
mind  of  the  shortness  and  uncertainty  of  it :  the  arms 
and  inscriptions  of  my  predecessors,  what  they  did  and 
what  theyneglected,  and  (from  accidental  cii'cumstances) 
the  very  place  itself,  and  the  rooms  I  walk  through 
and  sit  in.  And  when  I  consider  in  one  view  the  many 
things  of  the  kind  I  have  just  mentioned,  which  I  have 
upon  my  hands,  1  feel  the  burlesque  of  being  employed 
in  this  manner  at  my  time  of  life.  But,  in  another 
view,  and  taking  in  all  circumstances,  these  things,  as 
trifling  as  they  may  appear,  no  less  than  things  of 
greater  importance,  seem  to  be  put  upon  me  to  do,  or 
at  least  to  begin  ;  whether  I  am  to  live  to  complete  any 
or  all  of  them  is  not  my  concern."  ^ 

The  following  is  a  contemporary  accoimt  given  of 
him  at  this  time  :  ^  "  He  was  of  a  most  reverent  aspect, 

'  Steele's  Memoir,  p.  xlii.  -  Sm  tees'  History  of  Durham. 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


43 


his  face  thin  and  pale,  but  there  was  a  divine  placidness 
in  his  countenance  which  inspired  veneration  and 
expressed  the  most  benevolent  mind  ;  his  white  hair 
hung  gracefully  on  his  shoulders,  and  his  whole  figure 
was  patriarchal.  During  the  short  time  he  held  the 
see  he  conciliated  all  hearts.  In  advanced  years,  and 
on  the  episcopal  throne,  he  retained  the  same  genuine 
modesty  and  native  sweetness  of  disposition  which  had 
distinguished  him  in  youth  and  in  retirement.  During 
the  ministerial  performance  of  the  sacred  office  a  divine 
animation  seemed  to  pervade  his  whole  manner,  and 
lighted  up  his  pale,  wan  countenance,  already  marked 
with  the  progress  of  disease, — like  a  torch  glimmering  in 
its  socket,  but  bright  and  useful  to  the  last."  He 
managed  to  combine  an  open-handed  and  even  princely 
hospitahty  with  much  simplicity  in  his  private  hfe. 
He  kept  open  house  three  days  a  week  at  Durham  or 
Bishop- Auckland,  as  the  case  might  be,  and  at  other 
times  was  to  be  found  supping  alone  on  a  simple  joint 
and  a  pudding.  While  he  spent  considerable  sums  on 
the  repair  and  improvement  of  his  palace,  as  he  had 
already  done  at  Bristol, — a  work  which,  as  we  gather 
from  his  letter  to  the  Duchess  of  Somerset,  he  regarded 
as  necessary, —  his  liberality  to  external  objects  was 
also  munificent ;  he  subscribed,  from  the  outset  of  his 
episcopate,  £400  a  year  to  the  Newcastle  Infirmary, 
and  on  one  occasion  gave  £500,  all  the  money  he  had  at 
the  time  in  the  house,  to  some  object  which  he  approved, 
the  claims  of  which  had  been  brought  before  him. 

He  held  the  bishopric  for  scarcely  two  years.  The  one 
event  by  which  his  episcopate  was  distinguished  was  the 
delivery  of  his  celebrated  Durham  Charge,  delivered  at 
his  primary  visitation  of  the  diocese  in  1751.  In  this, 
after  pointing  to  the  decay  of  religion  as  a  generally 
admitted  fact,  so  that  while  "  different  ages  have  been 
distinguished  by  different  sorts  of  particular  errors  and 
vices,  the  deplorable  distinction  of  ours  is  an  avowed 


44     BISHOP  BUTLER  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


scorn  of  religion  in  some,  and  a  growing  disregard  of  it 
in  the  generality,"^  he  proceeds  to  ask  what  can  be  done 
to  arrest  a  decay  which  is  thus  general  and  generally  ad- 
mitted ?  How,  in  the  first  place,  should  the  clergy  act 
when  they  are  brought  face  to  face  with  objections  which 
"  sceptical  and  profane  men  are  extremely  apt  to  bring 
up  at  meetings  of  entertainment,  and  such  as  are  of  the 
freest  sort ;  innocent  ones,  I  mean,  for  otherwise  I  do 
not  suppose  you  would  be  present  at  them  ? "  ^ 

The  advice  which  he  gives  is  to  avoid,  as  far  as  may 
be,  public  discussions  at  such  gatherings.  Partly, 
religion  is,  he  urges,  too  serious  a  matter  to  be  made 
the  hackney  subject  on  such  occasions  ;  and  by  pre- 
venting its  being  made  so,  the  clergy  will  better  secure 
the  reverence  that  is  due  to  it  than  by  entering  over- 
readily  into  its  defence  ;  partly,  people  are  too  apt  "  in- 
considerately to  take  for  granted  that  things  are  really 
questionable  because  they  hear  them  often  disputed; 
and  an  objection  may  be  put  in  a  short  compass  which  it 
may  take  a  long  and  closely  connected  argiunent  to 
answer — one  which  it  would  be  impossible  adequately 
to  state,  still  more  to  get  properly  attended  to  in  a 
cursory  conversation."  ^  At  the  same  time,  he  warns 
them  "  that  they  must  be  very  particularly  on  their 
guard  that  they  may  not  seem,  by  way  of  compliance,  to 
join  in  with  any  levity  of  discourse  concerning  religion  ; 
nor  would  one  let  any  pretended  argument  against  it  pass 
entirely  without  notice,  nor  any  gross  ribaldry  upon  it, 
without  expressing  one's  entire  disapprobation.  This 
last  may  sometimes  be  done  by  silence ;  for  silence  is 
sometimes  very  expressive,  as  was  that  of  our  Blessed 
Saviour  before  the  Sanhedrim  and  before  Pilate."  * 

A  clergyman's  primary  concern,  however,  he  continues, 
is  not  with  strangers  or  with  chance  acquaintances,  but 
with  his  own  people ;  and  it  is  consequently  to  the 
methods  to  be  adopted  in  dealing  with  them  that  the 

>  Charge,  §  2.  =  §  4.  §  5.  ••  §  9. 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


45 


bishop  next  directs  his  remarks.  Even  here,  he  does 
not  recommend  the  preaching  of  sermons  of  a  directly 
controversial  or  polemical  character.  Such  discourses 
are  apt  to  raise  more  doubts  than  they  lay  ;  and,  in  any 
case,  are  quite  inappropriate  to  times  of  devotion  and 
worship.  "Nor  does  the  want  of  religion  in  the 
generality  of  the  common  people  appear  to  be  owing 
to  a  speculative  belief  or  denial  of  it,  but  chiefly  to 
thoughtlessness  and  the  common  temptations  of  life." 
The  chief  business  of  the  clergy,  therefore,  is  "  to 
endeavour  to  beget  a  practical  sense  of  religion  upon 
theii'  hearts,  as  what  they  acknowledge  their  belief  of, 
and  profess  they  ought  to  conform  themselves  to." 
"  And  this  is  to  be  done  by  keeping  up,  as  we  are  able, 
the  form  and  face  of  religion  with  decency  and  reverence, 
and  in  such  a  degree  as  to  bring  the  thoughts  of  rehgion 
often  to  their  minds ;  and  then  endeavouring  to  make 
this  form  more  and  more  subservient,  to  promote  the 
reality  and  power  of  it."  ^  After  observing  how  much 
the  Mahometans  and  Eoman  Catholics  gained  by  having 
stated  hours  of  prayer  and  devotion,  and  by  having 
religion  recalled  to  their  thoughts  by  some  ceremony  or 
rite  presented  to  their  senses,  "  our  reformers,"  he  con- 
tinues, "  reduced  the  form  of  religion  to  great  simplicity, 
and  enjoined  no  more  particular  rules,  nor  left  anything 
more  of  what  was  external  in  religion,  than  was  in  a 
manner  necessary  to  preserve  a  sense  of  religion  itself 
upon  the  minds  of  the  people.  But  a  great  deal  of  this 
is  neglected  by  the  generality  amongst  us ;  for  instance, 
the  service  of  the  Church,not  only  upon  common  days,but 
also  upon  saints'  days ;  and  several  other  things  might 
be  mentioned."  ^  The  result  of  this  neglect  of  external 
rehgion,  he  urges,  has  too  often  been  that  religion  itself 
has  fallen  into  decay ;  and  it  has  become  in  consequence 
highly  seasonable  to  instruct  the  people  to  pay  attention 
to  such  matters,  not  to  neglect  the  fabric  of  the  churches 
'  Cliarge,  §  12.  ^  § 


46     BISHOP  BUTLER  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


(which  it  belongs  to  the  laity  to  maintain  in  repair  and 
good  order) ;  and,  above  all,  to  attend  at  least  on  Sundays 
to  the  services  which  the  clergy  are  bound  to  conduct 
reverently  and  decently.  Further,  family  prayers, 
stated  times  for  private  prayer,  grace  at  meals,  should 
be  inculcated  as  duties ;  and  the  careful  education  of 
children  by  their  parents,  particularly  in  religion,  should 
be  insisted  on.  Above  all,  he  would  have  all  the  clergy 
improve  such  occasions  as  may  present  themselves  for 
imparting  special  instruction, — the  greater  festivals,  in- 
cidental solemnities,  private  intercourse,  the  crises  of 
life.  Preparation  for  confirmation  and  for  first  com- 
munion furnish  special  opportunities  of  which  no  clergy- 
man, anxious  to  do  his  best  for  his  people,  will  fail  to 
avail  himself.  "  To  do  all  this — to  do  this  but  to  keep 
a  sense  of  religion  in  their  own  minds,  and  to  promote 
the  practice  of  it  in  others — is  at  once  the  special 
business,  duty,  and  happiness  of  the  clergy,  and  also 
will  furnish  the  securest  barrier  against  the  threatened 
advance  of  infidelity." 

A  charge  so  outspoken  as  this,  delivered  in  the 
eighteenth  century  by  a  bishop  so  prominent  as  Butler, 
could  scarcely  fail  to  produce  a  profound  impression, 
and  controversy  seems  to  to  have  been  almost  immedi- 
ately aroused  by  it. 

A  certain  Archdeacon  Blackburn  pubhshed  in  1752 
an  anonymous  pamphlet,  entitled  A  Serious  Inquiry  into 
the  Use  and  Importance  of  External  Religion,  which  was 
intended  as  a  direct  answer  to  the  Charge ;  and  some 
years  later,  in  1767,  there  appeared,  after  the  bishop's 
death,  a  further  pamphlet,  also  anonymous,  under  the 
title  of  The  Roots  of  Protestant  Errors  Examined.  In 
this  the  author  stated  that  by  an  anecdote  lately  given 
him  the  same  prelate  (whom  he  designates  in  a  note 
as  B — p  of  D — m)  is  said  to  have  died  in  the  com- 
munion of  a  Church  "  that  makes  use  of  saints,  saints' 
days,  and  aU  the  trumpery  of  saints'  worship."  This 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


47 


unprovoked  assault  on  the  memory  of  his  friend  drew 
into  the  field  Archbishop  Seeker  as  his  defender,  who 
in  a  short  letter,  subscribed  Misopseudes,  addressed  to 
the  *S'^.  James  Chronicle  on  May  9th,  called  upon  the 
writer  to  produce  his  evidence  for  publishing  so  gross 
and  scandalous  a  falsehood.  The  challenge  was 
promptly  accepted.  The  author  of  the  pamphlet, 
signing  himself  Phileleutheros,  reasserts  that  such 
anecdote  had  been  certainly  given  him, "  and  that  he 
was  yet  of  opinion  that  there  was  nothing  improbable 
in  it,  when  it  is  considered  that  the  same  prelate  put 
up  the  popish  insignia  of  the  cross  in  his  chapel  when 
at  Bristol,  and  in  his  last  episcopal  charge  has  squinted 
very  much  towards  that  superstition."  To  this  renewed 
attack  the  archbishop  again  replied.  After  citing 
various  passages  from  his  writings  to  prove  how 
strongly  Butler  had  condemned  the  pretensions  of  the 
Church  of  Eome,  particularly  in  his  sermon  preached 
before  the  House  of  Lords,  Seeker  continues  :  "  Now,  he 
was  universally  esteemed  throughout  his  life  as  a  man 
of  strict  piety  and  honesty,  as  well  as  uncommon 
abilities.  He  gave  all  the  proofs,  pubhc  and  private, 
which  his  station  led  him  to  give,  and  they  were  decisive 
and  daily,  of  his  continuing  to  the  last  a  sincere  member 
of  the  Church  of  England.  Nor  had  any  of  his  acquaint- 
ance or  most  intimate  friends,  nor  have  they  to  this 
day,  the  least  doubt  of  it."  ^ 

This  reply  of  Seeker's  disposed  of  the  question  as  far 
as  the  original  pamphleteer  was  concerned  ;  but  a  short 
time  afterwards  another  letter  appeared  in  the  *S'^.  James' 
Chronicle  in  which  the  writer,  after  appealing  to  the 
cross  in  the  chapel  at  Bristol  and  the  expressions  in 
the  Charge  as  strong  proof  of  attachment  on  Butler's 
part  to  the  Church  of  Eome,  attempts  to  account  for  the 
bishop's  leaning  in  that  direction.  This  he  sets  down  to 
the  "  natural  melancholy  and  gloominess  of  Dr.  Butler's 

>  Bartlett's  Memoirs  of  Bishop  Butler,  p.  154. 


48     BISHOP  BUTLER  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


disposition ;  to  his  great  fondness  for  the  lives  of  Romish 
saints  and  their  books  of  mystic  piety ;  to  his  drawing 
his  notions  of  teaching  men  religion  not  from  the  New 
Testament  but  from  philosophical  and  political  opinions 
of  his  own ;  and  above  all,  to  his  transition  from  a  strict 
Dissenter  among  the  Presbyterians  to  a  rigid  Church- 
man, and  his  sudden  and  unexpected  elevation  to  great 
wealth  and  dignity  in  the  Church."  ^  To  this  second 
attack  Seeker  once  more  replied,  pointing  out  that  the 
natural  melancholy  of  the  bishop's  temper  would  rather 
have  fixed  him  among  his  first  friends,  than  prompted 
him  to  the  change  he  made ;  that  he  read  books  of  all 
sorts,  as  well  as  books  of  mystic  piety,  and  knew  how  to 
pick  the  good  that  was  in  them  out  of  the  bad  ;  that  his 
opinions  were  exposed  without  reserve  in  his  Aimlogy 
and  his  sermons ;  and  if  the  doctrine  of  either  be  popish 
or  unscriptural,  the  learned  world  hath  mistaken 
strangely  in  admh'ing  both :  that  instead  of  being  a  strict 
Dissenter,  he  never  was  a  communicant  in  any  Dissent- 
ing assembly ;  on  the  contrary,  he  went  occasionally  from 
his  earhest  years  to  the  established  worship  and  became 
a  constant  conformist  to  it  when  he  was  barely  of  age, 
and  entered  himself  in  1714  of  Oriel  College;  that  his 
elevation  to  great  dignity  in  the  Church,  far  from  being 
sudden  or  imexpected,  was  a  gradual  and  natural  rise  ; 
that  as  Bishop  of  Durham  he  had  very  little  authority 
beyond  his  brethren,  and  in  ecclesiastical  matters  had 
none  beyond  them ;  great  wealth  he  had,  but  this  he  had 
spent  for  purposes  of  charity  and  in  repairing  his  houses.^ 
The  controversy  was  a  foolish  one,  and  ought  never  to 
have  been  raised  ;  but  it  is  interesting  from  two  points 
of  view.  In  the  first  place,  it  well  illustrates  how  apart, 
in  his  life  and  modes  of  thinking,  Butler  was  from  his 
own  time,  and  how  Uttle,  in  spite  of  having  made  him 
a  bishop,  his  own  time  understood  him.  To  a  shallow 
and  self-seeking  age  he  seemed  a  veritable  marvel  of 
1  Bartlett,  pp.  155,  156.  =  Ibid.  pp.  156,  157. 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


49 


melancholy  and  unselfishness.  Then,  again,  the  details 
which  Seeker  supplies  from  his  own  personal  knowledge, 
and  speaking  as  Butler's  most  intimate  friend,  give  us 
more  vivid  insight  into  certain  sides  of  Butler's  character 
than  can  be  derived  from  any  other  soui'ce.  It  is  to 
be  observed  that  Seeker  dwells  on,  as  features  in  his 
character,  that  same  simplicity,  sincerity,  and  entire 
truthfulness  which  are  so  conspicuous  in  his  writings. 
It  is  also  interesting  to  notice  with  what  confidence  he 
speaks  of  these  writings  themselves  as  having  already 
established  an  unquestioned  reputation  in  the  opinion 
of  the  learned  world. 

Butler  died  within  a  year  from  the  delivery  of  his 
Charge,  and  within  two  years  of  his  translation  to  Dur- 
ham. Some  details  of  his  last  illness  are  preserved  in 
letters  which  his  chaplain,  Dr.  Nathaniel  Torster,  and 
his  friend  Bishop  Benson,  wrote  to  Seeker,  who,  too  ill  to 
visit  his  friend  himself,  was  anxious  for  constant  news 
of  his  closing  hours.  Butler's  illness  grew  very  rapidly 
upon  him.  The  waters  of  Clifton  were  first  tried,  but 
without  effect.  Then  he  moved  to  Bath,  but  the  waters 
of  Bath  proved  no  more  efficacious  than  those  of  Clifton  ; 
and  at  Bath  he  died  after  a  stay  there  of  little  more 
than  a  fortnight.  Here  he  was  visited,  at  no  little 
personal  inconvenience  and  risk,  by  his  friend  Bishop 
Benson,  of  whom  he  took  a  touching  and  affectionate 
farewell.  The  effort  of  the  journey  and  the  agitation  of 
mind  caused  by  taking  leave  of  his  friend  seem  to  have 
hastened  Benson's  own  death.  He  outlived  Butler  only 
a  few  months,  and  Bishop  Berkeley  too  died  in  the 
same  year.  For  the  rest,  Butler  seems  to  have  died 
very  much  as  he  had  lived — with  a  hesitating  but 
unbroken  faith,  with  simple  and  quiet,  if  somewhat 
melancholy,  resignation  and  fortitude.  He  died,  too,  as 
he  had  lived,  very  much  alone,  alone  with  his  own 
thoughts  and  God.    He  was  buried,  as  became  the  man. 


50     BISHOP  BUTLER  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


very  quietly  and  with  no  state,  in  his  earlier  cathedral 
of  Bristol.  His  funeral  was  attended  simply  by  his  own 
near  relatives  and  his  household.  "  The  pall,"  writes 
Dr.  Forster  to  Seeker,  "  was  supported  by  the  chancellor. 
Dr.  Waterland,  and  four  others  of  the  senior  clergy 
who  were  most  known  to  his  lordship,  and  followed  by 
myself  and  the  rest  of  the  family  in  the  same  order  in 
which  we  usually  attended  his  lordship  to  the  cathedral 
at  Durham" — the  last  a  picturesque  and  illustrative  trait. 

If  we  try  to  sum  up  the  charactei'istics  of  the  man 
which  his  life  seems  to  disclose,  we  observe  at  once  that 
these  characteristics  appear  far  less  clearly  marked  in 
his  life  than  they  do  in  his  writings.  This  is  only 
natural,  for  in  his  writings  his  life  culminated ;  and 
though  he  is  never,  as  we  have  seen,^  egotistical,  never 
mentions  himself  and  what  only  concerns  himself,  he  is 
always  personal.  A  writer  so  transparently  single- 
hearted  and  so  scrupulously  honest  as  Butler  was,  can 
scarcely  fail  to  be  this.  He  lets  you  see,  and  cannot 
help  doing  so,  what  are  his  deepest  convictions,  his 
strongest  motives,  his  most  enduring  affections,  his 
keenest  interests ;  in  a  less  degree  what  are  his  pre- 
vailing disHkes  and  repulsions.  He  is  on  such  points 
absolutely  frank  with  his  reader,  and  feels  the  strongest 
obhgation  to  be  nothing  less.  He  never  plays  with  his 
subject,  never  disguises,  never  holds  back,  never  writes 
for  effect.  All  is  the  sincere  outcome  of  an  honest  and 
scrupulous  mind,  set  out  with  all  possible  care,  circum- 
spection, and  self-restraint.  The  style,  the  laboured 
but  carefully  chosen  words,  the  cumbrous  sentences, 
adequately  and  faithfully  reflect  the  inward  thought ; 
and  so,  as  we  read  the  writings,  we  feel  with  absolute 
conviction  that  we  know  the  man.  What  then  was  he 
like,— how  shall  we  describe  him  ? 

1.  That  which  has  struck  all  critics  alike  as  the 

'  Above,  ji.  1. 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


51 


dominant  note  of  his  character  was  absolute  and 
supreme  conscientiousness.  The  supremacy  of  con- 
science was  no  mere  theory  with  him ;  it  was  a  truth 
carried  into  practice  in  every  detail  of  life  and  conduct. 
When  conscience  had  pronounced,  the  final  word  with 
him  had  been  said.  He  obeyed  its  dictates  with 
scrupulous  and  exact  observance,  for  his  conscience  was 
to  him  nothing  less  than  the  awful  and  venerable  voice 
of  God  Himself.  And  so  with  him  conscience  had  no 
less  "  power  "  than  "  authority,"  no  less  "  strength  "  than 
"  right."  But  as  in  all  very  conscientious  men,  so  with 
him,  this  absolute  predominance  of  conscience  was  inevit- 
ably accompanied  by  a  certain  scrupulosity,  fearfulness, 
and  melancholy.  The  consciousness  of  sin  becomes  acute 
in  such  characters,  and  their  conduct  is  even  more  regu- 
lated by  the  fear  of  God  than  animated  by  the  love  of 
Him.  They  live  in  constant  dread  that  they  may  give 
offence,  that  they  may  fall  short  of  that  which  their  deli- 
cate and  scrupulous  conscience  requires  of  them.  Some- 
thing of  this  kind  we  observe  in  Butler.  He  walked  as  he 
wrote,  warily  and  cii'cumspectly.  He  seems  ever  afraid  to 
give  offence, — not  to  give  offence  to  man,  but  to  God,  and 
to  God's  vicegerent,  the  voice  of  conscience,  within  him. 

2.  Next  to  his  conscientiousness  we  should  place 
among  Butler's  most  marked  characteristics  the  in- 
tensity of  his  religious  convictions.  The  two  were 
indeed,  as  Mr.  Bagehot  has  observed,  most  intimately 
connected ;  for  Butler,  more  than  most  thinkers,  ap- 
proached religion  directly  from  the  side  of  conscience. 
He  believed  implicitly  in  the  existence  and  supremacy 
of  God,  because  he  at  once  trusted  and  obeyed  the  evi- 
dence of  his  conscience  ;  and  his  conscience  spoke  to  him 
in  unmistakable  tones  of  God  as  judge  and  the  perfect 
embodiment  of  that  moral  law  whose  awful  dictates  it 
apprehended  and  interpreted.  To  soine  extent,  no 
doubt,  Butler's  religious  beliefs  were  coloured  and  in- 


52     BISHOP  BUTLEK:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


fluenced  by  their  origin  in  conscience.  It  gave  to  them 
that  prevailing  tone  of  reverent  fear,  of  awful  appre- 
hension, of  anxious  and  even  melancholy  scrupulosity, 
of  all  that  the  Greeks  meant  by  the  term  "  eulabeia," 
which  Mr.  Bagehot  ^  has  again  happily  noted  as  charac- 
teristic alike  of  his  life  and  writings,  and  which  makes 
"  resignation "  hold  with  him  the  primary  place  in 
man's  rightful  attitude  towards  God.  Yet  it  is  easy  to 
exaggerate  this  aspect  of  his  faith.  No  one  can  read 
the  two  sermons  on  the  Love  of  God  in  particular,  or 
the  chapter  on  the  Atonement  in  the  second  part  of 
the  Analogy,  without  seeing  that  if  the  fear  of  God 
was  with  him  the  beginning  of  wisdom,  still  fear  was 
in  the  end  transcended  by,  and  transmuted  into,  love. 
What  can  be  finer  or  more  inspiriting,  for  instance,  than 
the  noble  description  at  the  end  of  the  second  of  these 
Sermons  of  what  the  happiness  of  heaven  may  consist 
in  ? — when  we  shall  see  not  only  the  effects  of  power, 
wisdom,  and  greatness,  "  but  the  qualities  themselves  in 
the  Supreme  Being  may  be  the  immediate  objects  of 
contemplation  " ;  "  when  the  spirits  of  just  men  made 
perfect  may  have  a  real  view  of  that  righteousness 
which  is  an  everlasting  righteousness ;  of  the  con- 
formity of  the  divine  will  to  the  law  of  truth,  in 
which  the  moral  law  consists ;  of  that  goodness  in  the 
sovereign  Mind  which  gave  birth  to  the  universe ;  add, 
what  will  be  true  of  all  good  men  hereafter,  a  con- 
sciousness of  having  an  interest  in  what  they  are 
contemplating ;  suppose  them  able  to  say,  '  This  God 
is  our  God  for  ever  and  ever,' — would  they  be  any 
longer  to  seek  for  what  is  their  chief  happiness,  their 
final  good  ?  Could  the  utmost  stretch  of  their  capaci- 
ties look  further  ? "  ^  And  again :  "  As  om-  capacities 
of  perception  improve  we  shall  have,  perhaps  by  some 
faculty  entirely  new,  a  perception  of  God's  presence 

1  Literary  Studies,  vol.  iii..  Essay  IV.  p.  116.      -  Sermon  XIV.  §  17. 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


53 


with  us  in  a  nearer  and  stricter  way ;  since  it  is  certain 
He  is  more  intimately  present  with  us  than  anything 
else  can  be.  Proof  of  the  existence  and  presence  of 
any  being  is  quite  different  from  the  immediate  percep- 
tion, the  consciousness  of  it.  What,  then,  will  be  the 
joy  of  heart  which  His  presence,  and  '  the  light  of  His 
countenance,'  Who  is  the  life  of  the  universe,  will  inspire 
good  men  with,  when  they  shall  have  a  sensation  that 
He  is  the  sustainer  of  their  being,  that  they  exist  in  Him ; 
when  they  shall  feel  His  influence  to  cheer  and  enliven 
and  support  their  frame,  in  a  manner  of  which  we  have 
now  no  conception  ?  He  will  be  in  a  literal  sense  their 
strength  and  their  portion  for  ever."  ^  Could  the  affection 
which  the  human  heart  is  capable  of  feeling  towards 
the  Divine  nature  and  the  Divine  love  be  more  eloquently 
and  even  passionately  expressed  ?  is  there  anything  more 
soul-stirring  and  uplifting  in  the  Imitatio  itself  ? 

It  was  this  deep-seated  and  even  enthusiastic  religious 
feeling  and  conviction  which  made  Butler  such  a  curious 
contrast  to  the  general  temper  and  prevailing  sentiment 
of  his  time,  so  that  his  career  and  its  remarkable 
success  fill  us  even  with  a  certain  sense  of  incongruity 
and  surprise.  While  others,  who  held  religious  beliefs, 
held  them,  or  flattered  themselves  that  they  held  them, 
as  the  result  of  an  elaborate  and  sustained  reasoning 
process ;  while  God  for  them  seems  to  exist,  as  Mr. 
Pattison  pithily  puts  it,  mainly  in  order  that  He  might 
be  "  proved,"  with  Butler  it  is  far  otherwise,  God  is 
for  him  a  reality,  and  the  greatest  of  realities,  a  Being 
about  whose  existence  it  is  as  little  possible  to  doubt 
as  it  is  about  one's  own  existence,  for  He  is  one  who  is 
not  only  apprehended  by  the  intellect,  but  far  more 
also  by  the  conscience,  the  affections,  and  the  heart, 
— an  object  of  devotion  and  worship  as  well  as,  and 
even  far  more  than,  an  object  of  speculation  and 

1  Sermon  XIV.  18. 


54     BISHOP  BUTLER  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


belief.  That  such  a  man,  in  such  an  age,  should  have 
been  made  a  bishop,  and  made  a  bishop  without  ques- 
tion and  without  cavil,  is  surely  a  strong  testimony  to 
the  respect,  and  even  half-extorted  admiration,  which 
honest  and  unaffected  piety  will  always  command. 

3.  But  we  should  be  mistaking  Bishop  Butler  and 
misrepresenting  him  did  we  not  recognise  the  supremacy 
which  he,  in  common  with  his  countrymen  at  large, 
assigned  to  reason.  He  will  not  for  a  moment  dethrone 
or  belittle  it.  "  I  express  myself  with  caution,"  he 
says,^  "  lest  I  should  be  mistaken  to  vilify  reason,  which 
is  indeed  the  only  faculty  we  have  wherewith  to  judge 
concerning  anything,  even  revelation  itself."  And 
again  :  "  It  is  shown,  that,  upon  supposition  of  a  Divine 
revelation,  the  analogy  of  nature  renders  it  beforehand 
highly  credible,  I  think  probaljle,  that  many  things  in 
it  must  appear  liable  to  great  objections ;  and  that  we 
must  be  incompetent  judges  of  it  to  a  great  degree. 
This  observation  is,  I  think,  unquestionably  true,  and 
of  the  very  utmost  importance :  but  it  is  urged,  as  I 
hope  it  will  be  understood,  with  great  caution  of  not 
vilifying  the  faculty  of  reason,  which  is  '  the  candle  of 
the  Lord  within  us,'  though  it  can  afford  no  light  where 
it  does  not  shine ;  nor  judge,  where  it  has  no  principles 
to  judge  upon."  2  His  quarrel  with  his  contemporaries 
was  not  that  tliey  exalted  reason,  but  that  they  exalted 
it  unduly ;  that  they  extolled  its  authority,  not  as  they 
ought  to  have  done,  when  working  subject  to,  and  in 
accordance  with,  the  evidence  of  facts,  but  even  when 
enunciating  conclusions  that  were  independent  of  facts, 
or,  worse  still,  opposed  to  them :  that  they  pushed  it 
into  regions  into  which  it  had  no  right  to  intrude,  and 
made  it  responsible  for  conclusions  which  it  had  no 
adequate  data  for  arriving  at.  But  to  reason,  properly 
schooled  and  duly  limited,  no  one  yields  a  more  loyal 
»  Analogy,  ii.  iii.  |  3,  *  Ibid.  ix.  |  7. 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


55 


and  uncomplaining  submission.  "  Let  reason  be  kept  to; 
and  if  any  part  of  the  scripture  account  of  the  re- 
demption of  the  world  by  Christ  can  be  shown  to  be 
really  contrary  to  it,  let  the  scripture,  in  the  name  of 
God,  be  given  up :  but  let  not  such  poor  creatures  as 
we  go  on  objecting  against  an  infinite  scheme,  that  we  do 
not  see  the  necessity  or  usefulness  of  all  its  parts,  and 
call  this  reasoning ;  and,  which  still  further  heightens 
the  absurdity  in  the  present  case,  parts  which  we  are 
not  actively  concerned  in."  ^ 

4.  Closely  connected  with  all  the  foregoing  charac- 
teristics was  that  which  has  seemed  to  many  writers 
the  most  distinctive  and  remarkable  of  them  all — his 
uncompromising  and  unstinted  devotion  to  truth  and 
fact.  It  is  this  which  above  all  his  other  qualities  has 
commended  him  to  minds  so  different  as  those  of  Mr. 
Gladstone,  Dean  Church,  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen.  It  is 
this  intense  desire  to  be  absolutely  true  to  thought 
and  fact  which  is  the  secret  of  the  badness  and  diffi- 
culty, but  also  of  the  strength  and  effectiveness,  of  his 
style.  He  will  leave  nothing  out,  no  qualification,  no 
reservation,  no  after-thought,  by  which  his  meaning 
can  be  rendered  more  exact  and  truthful ;  he  prefers  to 
understate  rather  than  overstate  his  case ;  every  objec- 
tion which  is  a  real  objection  is  to  be  met,  and  its  due 
weight  and  proper  place  assigned  to  it ;  a  doctrine, 
if  proved,  is  not  to  be  rejected  even  though  it  may 
seem  that  unacceptable  consequences  may  be  drawn 
from  it.  "  For,  after  all,  that  which  is  true  must  be 
admitted,  though  it  should  show  us  the  shortness  of 
our  faculties,  and  that  we  are  in  no  wise  judges  of 
many  things  of  which  we  are  apt  to  think  ourselves 
very  competent  ones."  "  Things  and  actions  are  what 
they  are,  and  the  consequences  of  them  will  be  what 
they  will  be ;  why,  then,  should  we  desire  to  be  de- 

'  Analogy,  li.  v.  §  24. 


56     BISHOP  BUTLEE:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


ceived  ? "  ^  "  As  we  cannot  remove  from  this  earth,  or 
change  our  general  business  on  it,  so  neither  can  we 
alter  our  real  nature.  Therefore  no  exercise  of  the 
mind  can  be  recommended,  but  only  the  exercise  of 
those  faculties  you  are  conscious  of."  2  Quotations  of 
this  sort  might  be  ahnost  indefinitely  multiplied  from 
his  writings.  But  it  is  quite  needless  ;  no  one  has  ever 
read  his  works  with  any  attention  and  then  doubted 
their  sincerity  and  careful  truthfulness.  It  is  just  this 
quality  in  them,  the  resolute  determination  to  state 
things  as  they  are,  neither  more  nor  less ;  to  shut  his 
eyes  willingly  to  no  fact,  whether  it  makes  immediately 
for  or  against  his  position ;  to  ignore  no  real  considera- 
tion which  should  have  weight  in  determining  the  issue ; 
to  pass  over  no  objection  or  difliculty,  which  is  a  real 
objection  and  a  true  difficulty ;  never  to  overstate  a  fact 
or  unduly  press  an  argument ;  which  has  made  his  writ- 
ings, difficult  though  they  usually  are,  sometimes  even 
obscure  and  repellent,  the  most  popular  and  the  best 
used  storehouse  of  apologetics  in  the  English  language. 

Two  epitaphs  were  composed  on  Butler.    The  first, 
written  immediately  after  his  death  by  Dr.  N.  Forster, 
his  chaplain  and  executor,  ran  as  follows  : — 
H.  S. 

Keverendus  admodum  in  Christo  Pater 
JosEPHUs  Butler,  LL.D. 
Hujusce  jirimo  Dknceseos 
Deinde  Dunelraensis  Episcopus. 

Qualis  quaiitusque  \'ir  erat 
Sua  libentissime  agnovit  .iEtas  ; 
Et  si  quid  Prjesuli  aut  scriptori  ad  famam  valent 
Mens  altissima,  ingenii  perspicacis  et  subacti  vis, 
Animusque  pius,  simplex,  candidus,  liberalis, 
Mortui  baud  facile  evaiiescet  memoria. 
Obiit  Bathonia; 
xvi.  Kal  Jul.  A.D.  1752 
Annos  uatus  LX. 


^  Sermon  VII.  §  16.  ^  germon  XIII.  §  14. 


LIFE  AND  TIMES 


57 


The  other  was  composed  by  Southey  when,  in  1834, 
a  more  elaborate  and  suitable  monument  was  erected  to 
him.    It  reads  as  follows : — 

Sacred 
To  the  memory 
of 

Joseph  Butler,  D.C.L., 
Twelve  years  Bishop  of  this  Diocese, 
and 

Afterwards  Bishop  of  Durliam, 
Whose  mortal  part  is  deposited 
In  the  choir  of  this  Cathedral. 
Others  had  establislied 
Tlie  historical  and  prophetical  ground 
Of  the  Christian  religion, 
and 

That  sure  testimony  of  its  truth, 
Which  is.  found  in  the  perfect  adaptation 
To  the  heart  of  man. 
It  was  reserved  for  him  to  develope 
Its  analogy  to  the  Constitution 
And  Course  of  Nature  ; 
And  laying  his  strong  foundations 
In  the  depth  of  that  great  argument, 
There  to  construct 
Another  and  irrefragable  proof. 
Thus  rendering  Philosophy 
Subservient  to  Faith  ; 
And  finding  in  outward  and  visible  thing 
The  type  and  evidence 
Of  those  within  the  veil. 
Born  A.D.  1692.    Died  1752. 

"  He  who  believes  the  Scripture 
To  have  proceeded  from  Him  who  is  the 
Author  of  Nature,  may  well  expect 
To  find  the  same  sort  of  difficulties 
In  it  as  are  found  in  the  constitution 
Of  Nature." 

Origen,  Philocal.  p.  23. 


CHAPTER  II 


MORAL  PRACTICE  AND  MORAL  THEORY  IN  ENGLAND 
IN  THE  FIRST  HALF  OF  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY 

Butler's  life  extended  from  a.d.  1692  to  1752.  His 
boyhood  thus  falls  in  the  reigns  of  William  and 
Mary,  and  Queen  Anne,  while  his  manhood  covers 
nearly  the  reigns  of  the  first  two  Georges.  He  began 
to  preach  his  sermons  at  the  EoUs  in  1718,  four  years 
after  the  accession  of  George  I. ;  he  died  in  1752,  eight 
years  before  George  iii.  came  to  the  throne.  It  is 
difficult  to  summarise  the  characteristics  of  a  time; 
but  the  period  covered  by  the  reigns  of  the  first  two 
Georges  has  certain  clearly  marked  features  of  its  own 
which  most  historians  have  not  failed  to  recognise. 
It  may  be  described  as  a  sort  of  back-water  from  the 
main  stream  of  English  history,  a  period  when  the 
national  life,  though  contented  and  prosperous,  ran 
sluggishly  or  even  seemed  to  stagnate  altogether ;  and 
just  as  stagnant  waters  do  not  fail  to  gather  on  their 
surface  a  film  of  corruption  and  noxious  weeds,  so  this 
time  was  marked  by  the  prevalence  of  much  sordid 
vice,  great  selfishness,  great  triviality.  It  was  an  age 
materially  prosperous,  contented,  and  calm,  one  which 
prided  itself  on  its  enlightenment  and  its  devotion  to 
reason ;  but  it  was  a  time  of  shrunken  ideals,  of  nar- 
rowed views,  of  heartless  profession, — a  day  of  small 
things,  one  which  was  content  and  even  proud  to  have 
it  so.   "  The  slightest  observation,"  says  a  contemporary 


MORAL  PRACTICE  AND  THEORY  IN  ENGLAND  59 


writer,  "if  attended  by  impartiality,  may  convince  us 
that  the  character  of  the  manners  of  this  age  and 
nation  is  by  no  means  that  of  abandoned  wickedness  and 
profligacy,  rather  the  age  is  a  time  of  vain,  luxurious, 
and  selfish  effeminacy."  ^  "  It  is  commonly  observed," 
says  Bishop  Butler,  "  that  there  is  a  disposition  in  men 
to  complain  of  the  viciousness  and  corruption  of  the 
age  in  which  they  live,  as  greater  than  that  of  former 
ones ;  which  is  usually  followed  by  this  further  obser- 
vation, that  mankind  has  been  in  that  respect  much  the 
same  in  all  times.  Now,  not  to  determine  whether  this 
last  be  not  contradicted  by  the  accounts  of  history ; 
thus  much  can  scarce  be  doubted,  that  vice  and  folly 
take  different  turns,  and  some  particular  kinds  of  it  are 
more  open  and  avowed  in  some  ages  than  in  others :  and 
I  suppose  it  may  be  spoken  of  as  very  much  the  dis- 
tinction of  the  present  to  confess  a  contracted  spirit, 
and  greater  regards  to  self-interest,  than  appears  to 
have  been  done  formerly."  ^ 

There  were  various  causes  which  combined  to  produce 
such  a  result.  The  seventeenth  century  had  been  an  age 
of  great  tension  of  feeling,  of  great  enthusiasms  for  great 
causes.  Men  had  fought,  and  felt  themselves  to  be  fight- 
ing, for  great  issues  which  they  believed  to  be  at  stake  ; 
loyalty  was  the  watchword  of  the  one  party,  liberty 
of  the  other ;  but  either  side  was  willing  to  surrender 
even  life  itself  in  a  cause  which  they  believed  to  be 
sacred  and  knew  to  be  noble.  But  after  effort  and 
sustained  enthusiasm  there  come,  by  what  seems  almost 
a  natural  law,  languor  and  reaction ;  and  men  wonder 
how  their  fathers  were  willing  to  bleed  for  causes 
which,  now  that  faith  in  them  has  departed,  seem 
valueless  and  almost  meaningless.     Self-sacrifice  in 

'  Dr.  John  Brown's  Estimate  of  tJie  Manners  and  Principles  qf  the 
Times,  vol.  i.  §  5. 
»  Sermon  XI.  §  1, 


60     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


such  an  age  can  be  justified  only  by  the  expectation 
of  immediate  reward ;  to  be  held  guilty  of  enthusiasm 
is  no  longer  a  virtue,  but  the  worst  crime  with  which 
you  can  bespatter  your  adversary. 

There  was  another  cause.  The  civil  war  had  ended  in 
the  triumph  of  the  Puritans ;  and  the  Protectorate,  set 
up  as  a  result  of  this  triumph,  had  attempted  to  force 
upon  the  nation  a  form  of  faith  alien  to  its  temper,  and 
a  standard  of  morals  of  a  strictness  and  austerity  alto- 
gether beyond  its  endurance.  The  consequence  was  that 
with  the  Eestoration  there  set  in  a  period  of  unbridled 
reaction.  Licentiousness  ran  riot ;  the  evil  fashion  set 
by  the  court  was  only  too  readily  followed  by  the  mass 
of  the  people.  The  virtues  and  even  the  decencies  of 
life  were  neglected ;  excess  and  profligacy  were  ram- 
pant. The  reign  of  Charles  ii.  makes  almost  the 
darkest  page  in  English  history.  But  with  the  acces- 
sion of  William  and  Mary  a  counter  reaction  set  in. 
EngUshmen,  seeing  the  ill  effects  which  previous  ex- 
cesses had  had  on  the  fortunes  of  the  nation,  began  to 
recognise  the  error  of  their  ways,  and  an  enlightened 
selfishness,  less  actively  harmful  but  scarcely  morally 
better,  took  the  place  of  the  earlier  unrestrained  self- 
indulgence.  Those  who  had  before  abandoned  them- 
selves to  every  whim  of  caprice  now  prided  themselves 
on  being  directed  by  reason  alone,  and  the  dictates  of 
a  reasonable  self-interest  were  accepted  as  the  proper 
guide  of  life.  Men  plumed  themselves  on  the  possession 
of  "a  roundabout  common  sense,"  to  use  a  phrase  of 
Locke's ;  and  would  rise  to  no  heights,  if  they  would 
descend  to  no  depths,  which  this  would  not  justify. 
And  not  only  did  they  profess  to  be  actuated  solely  by 
such  motives  in  their  own  conduct :  they  derided  all 
who  did  otherwise.  Any  pretensions  to  loftier  motives 
or  a  more  exalted  standard  were  branded  as  hypo- 
crisy, or  denounced  as  folly.     The  majority  would 


MORAL  PRACTICE  AND  THEORY  IN  ENGLAND  61 


recognise  no  virtue  higher  or  more  exalted  than  their 
own. 

The  very  material  prosperity  which  the  country 
enjoyed — a  prosperity  so  marked  that  historians  from 
Hallam  downwards  have  described  this  time  as  the  very 
heyday  of  the  good  fortune  of  the  working  classes — 
may  have  contributed  in  the  same  direction.  Comfort 
came  to  be  regarded  as  the  end  of  life ;  and  men  in  their 
pursuit  of  that  grew  lost  to  all  higher  or  worthier  objects. 

While  such  was  the  general  temper  of  the  times,  the 
prevailing  motives  told  differently  on  the  different 
classes,  and  in  different  degrees.  The  higher  classes 
were  probably  the  greatest  offenders.  Dr.  Brown,  in 
the  work  already  referred  to,  expressly  states  that 
this  was  the  case ;  and  Butler  in  several  passages  seems 
also  to  imply  the  same.  Not  only  among  them  were 
frivolity,  passionate  devotion  to  dress  (in  which  men 
no  less  than  women  shared),  gluttony  and  drinking, 
gambling  and  every  form  of  senseless  ostentation, 
pushed  to  their  greatest  lengths,  but  it  was  chiefly 
in  polite  society  that  that  general  scoffing  temper 
and  contempt  of  religion,  which  passed  it  by  with  an 
epigram  or  a  gibe,  most  widely  prevailed.  This  was  the 
temper  of  which  Butler  so  loudly  complains,  of  which 
he  can  scarcely  write  with  patience.  It  is  this  that  he 
has  in  his  mind  when  he  writes :  "  We  find  many  pro- 
fessedly to  reject  both  —  i.e.  both  natural  religion  and 
Christianity — upon  speculative  principles  of  infidelity. 
And  all  of  them  do  not  content  themselves  with  a  bare 
neglect  of  religion,  and  enjoying  theii'  imaginary  free- 
dom from  its  restraints.  Some  go  much  beyond  this. 
They  deride  God's  moral  government  over  the  world. 
They  renoimce  His  protection  and  defy  His  justice. 
They  ridicule  and  vilify  Christianity,  and  blaspheme 
the  Author  of  it ;  and  take  all  occasions  to  manifest  a 
scorn  and  contempt  of  revelation.    This  amounts  to  an 


62     BISHOP  BUTLEE:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WEITINGS 


active  setting  themselves  against  religion,  to  what  may 
be  considered  as  a  positive  principle  of  irrehgion  which 
they  cixltivate  within  themselves.  .  .  .  And  others, 
who  are  not  chargeable  with  all  this  profligateness, 
yet  are  in  avowed  opposition  to  religion,  as  if  discovered 
to  be  groundless."  ^  Or  again :  "  It  is  come,  I  know 
not  how,  to  be  taken  for  granted  by  many  persons,  that 
Christianity  is  not  so  much  as  a  subject  of  inquiry; 
but  it  is  now  at  length  discovered  to  be  fictitious.  And 
accordingly  they  treat  it  as  if,  in  the  present  age,  this 
were  an  agreed  point  among  all  people  of  discernment ; 
and  nothing  I'emained  but  to  set  it  up  as  a  principal  sub- 
ject of  mirth  and  ridicule,  as  it  were  by  way  of  reprisals, 
for  its  having  so  long  interrupted  the  pleasures  of  the 
world."  2  And  he  begms  his  last  Charge  thus :  "  It  is 
impossible  for  me,  my  brethren,  upon  our  first  meeting 
of  this  kind,  to  forbear  lamenting  with  you  the  general 
decay  of  religion  in  this  nation ;  which  is  now  observed 
by  every  one,  and  has  been  for  some  time  the  complaint 
of  all  serious  persons.  The  influence  of  it  is  more  and 
more  wearing  out  of  the  minds  of  men,  even  of  those 
who  do  not  pretend  to  enter  into  speculations  on  this 
subject ;  but  the  number  of  those  who  do,  and  profess 
themselves  unbelievers,  increases,  and  with  their  niun- 
bers  their  zeal.  Zeal,  it  is  natural  to  ask, — for  what  ? 
Why,  truly  for  nothing,  but  against  everything  that  is 
good  and  sacred  amongst  us."  ^ 

This  prevailing  spirit  of  contemptuous  disregard  of 
religion,  of  narrow  -  minded  selfishness,  frivohty,  and 
levity,  produced  disastrous  consequences  in  other  du-ec- 
tions  also.  Music,  literature,  architecture,  all  the 
higher  arts  languished,  or  were  degraded,  or  sank  into 
a  condition  of  artificial  triviality.  So  much  time  was 
occupied  by  dress  and  the  emptiest  conventionalities  of 
society  that  men  found  neither  time  nor  inclination  for 

>  Analogy,  ll.  ix.  §  5.         -  Ibid.  i.  Advert.  §  2.         '  Charge,  §  1. 


MORAL  PRACTICE  AND  THEORY  IN  ENGLAND  63 


any  serious  reading.  Whatever  could  not  be  treated 
by  an  epigram  failed  to  command  interest  or  to  be 
regarded  as  worth  discussion.  Even  Bolingbroke's 
writings,  unorthodox  as  they  were,  were  too  long  and 
too  serious  to  command  attention,  and  consequently 
they  fell  flat.  Pamphlets  were  the  order  of  the  day ; 
pamphlets  in  which  spicy  personal  abuse  took  the  place 
of  serious  discussion,  and  epigrams  that  of  argument. 
Nor  did  the  evil  confine  itself  to  words.  Bands  of 
well  -  dressed  and  well  -  born  youths  (Mohawks  they 
styled  themselves),  recognising  no  law  but  their  own 
wantonness  and  caprice,  paraded  the  streets  of  London 
at  night,  beating,  and  inflicting  other  outrages  on,  re- 
spectable and  quiet  citizens,  till  no  decent  woman 
would  venture  abroad,  without  necessity,  after  dark; 
and  those  whose  occupations  took  them  forth  were 
constantly  insulted  or  met  even  with  worse  treatment. 
So  certain  is  it  that,  when  men  have  lost  their  faith  in 
ideals  of  religion  and  patriotism,  and  recognise  nothing 
higher  than  self-interest  or  trivial  caprice,  the  strong 
will  oppress  the  weak,  and  those  who  have  the  power 
will  invade  the  rights  and  destroy  the  peace  and  comfort 
of  those  less  happily  circumstanced  than  themselves. 

Things  were  better  with  the  middle  classes.  At 
anyrate,  there  was  among  them  less  outward  contempt 
for  religion,  less  frivolity,  less  licence.  But  the  desire 
for  material  comfort  and  well-being  was  as  strong  in 
them  as  in  their  social  superiors ;  nor  was  there  less 
of  that  contracted  spirit  which  could  see  in  such 
comfort  the  only  good,  and  which  subjected  all  other 
interests  to  those  of  wealth  and  prosperity.  Probably 
the  commercial  temper,  to  the  widespread  predominance 
of  which  Dr.  Brown  attributes  so  many  of  the  evils  of 
his  day,  ruled  this  class  more  absolutely  than  it  did  any 
other.  One  curious  result  of  this  is  to  be  seen  in  the 
fact  that,  while  the  adherents  of  the  Hanoverian  dynasty 


64     BISHOP  BUTLEE  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


were  to  be  found  chiefly  among  the  commercial  classes 
of  the  towns,  at  the  time  of  the  Highland  rising  in 
1745,  these  classes,  except  in  London,  scarcely  put  out 
a  hand  to  resist  the  movement,  even  though  its  success 
must  have  meant  a  Stuart  restoration.  Yet,  in  spite  of 
their  selfishness  and  narrowness  of  mind,  Butler  himself 
bears  witness  to  the  fact  that  among  them  was  to  be  found 
no  small  part  of  the  virtue  and  integrity  of  the  nation. 
"  The  improvement  of  trade  and  commerce  has,"  he 
says,  "  made  another  change  just  hinted  at,  and,  I 
think,  a  very  happy  one,  iii  the  state  of  the  world,  as 
it  has  enlarged  the  middle  rank  of  people;  many  of 
which  are,  in  good  measure,  free  from  the  vices  of  the 
highest  and  lowest  part  of  mankind."  ^  On  the  whole, 
it  would  seem  that,  though  this  class,  in  common  with 
the  rest  of  the  nation,  was  wanting  in  high  ideals  or 
moral  earnestness,  it  was  pre-eminently  characterised 
by  sobriety  and  common  sense,  and  clung  to  a  religion 
which,  if  of  a  cold  and  rational  sort,  had  some  power  as 
a  controlling  and  restraining  force  on  character  and 
conduct.  While  sharing  in  the  general  horror  of  en- 
thusiasm, it  was  willing  to  admit  so  much  of  religion  as 
could  be  shown  to  be  rational.  The  deistical  writers 
would  seem  to  have  foimd  the  chief  part  of  their 
audience  among  the  rich  and  leism-ed  classes;  it  was 
for  their  benefit  that  their  epigrams  against  religion 
and  their  demonstrations  of  the  sufficiency  of  reason 
were  mainly  composed.  On  the  other  hand,  Butler's 
cautious  argimients  as  to  the  narrowness  of  the  powers 
of  the  human  mind,  and  the  consequent  wisdom,  where 
the  matter  seemed  to  be  doubtful,  of  throwing  in  one's 
lot  with  that  side  which  could  make  out  the  more 
probable  ease  for  itself,  appealed  with  great  force  to 
those  who  possessed  in  strong  measure  the  middle- 
class  qualities  of  carefulness  and  canniness. 

»  0.  S.  S.,  ii.  §5. 


MORAL  PRACTICE  AND  THEORY  IN  ENGLAND  65 


With  respect  to  the  condition  of  the  lower  orders,  our 
evidence  is  by  no  means  so  complete  as  we  could  wish. 
Most  writers  seem  to  draw  a  somewhat  sharp  contrast 
between  the  town  and  the  country  population, — much 
in  favour  of  the  latter.  We  gather  from  Butler  that 
both  the  distinction  between  classes  was  much  more 
clearly  marked  than  it  is  at  present,  and  the  interval 
between  them  greater  ;  that,  as  a  consequence,  the  poor 
were  dependent  upon  the  rich,  and  directly  influenced 
by  them,  more  than  they  are  now.  How  exaggerated 
would  the  following  language,  for  instance,  appear  if 
applied  to  the  condition  of  our  own  times  :  "  The  lower 
rank  of  mankind  go  on,  for  the  most  part,  in  some  tract 
of  living,  into  which  they  got  by  direction  or  example  ; 
and  to  this  their  understanding  and  discourse,  as  well  as 
labour,  are  greatly  confined.  Their  opinions  of  persons 
and  things  they  take  upon  trust.  Their  behaviour 
lias  very  Uttle  in  it  original,  or  of  home  growth ;  very 
little  which  may  not  be  traced  up  to  the  influence 
of  others,  and  less  which  is  not  capable  of  being 
changed  by  such  influence.  Then,  as  God  has  made 
plentiful  provision  for  all  His  creatures,  the  wants  of 
all,  even  of  the  poorest,  might  be  supplied,  so  far  as  it 
is  fit  they  should,  by  a  proper  distribution  of  it.  This 
being  the  condition  of  the  lower  part  of  mankind, 
consider  now  what  influence,  as  well  as  power,  their 
superiors  must,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  have  over 
them.  For  they  can  instil  instruction,  and  recom- 
mend it  in  a  pecuKar  manner  by  their  example,  and 
enforce  it  still  further  with  favour  and  discouragement 
of  various  kinds.  And  experience  shows  that  they  do 
direct  and  change  the  course  of  the  world  as  they 
please.  Not  only  tlie  civil  welfare,  but  the  morals  and 
religion  of  their  fellow-creatures  greatly  depend  on 
them  :  much  more,  indeed,  than  they  would,  if  the  com- 
mon people  were  not  greatly  wanting  to  their  duty.  All 
5 


66     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


this  is  evidently  true  of  superiors  in  general ;  superiors 
in  riches,  authority,  and  understanding  taken  together. 
And  need  I  say  how  much  of  this  whole  superiority 
goes  along  with  riches  ? "  In  another  sermon,  that 
preached  "  On  behalf  of  the  Children  in  the  Charity 
Schools  in  and  about  the  Cities  of  Loudon  and  West- 
minster," he  traces  this  condition  of  dependence,  which 
the  lower  classes  stand  in  to  the  higher,  as  being  mainly 
due  to  the  immense  disparity  in  learning  and  education 
which  prevailed  between  the  two — a  disparity  which  had 
been  increased  rather  than  diminished  by  the  invention 
of  printing,  and  the  general  diffusion  of  knowledge  among 
the  educated  which  had  come  from  the  use  of  books.^ 
This  disparity  there  was  a  great  inclination  on  the  part 
of  some  of  the  well-to-do  to  maintain ;  either  because 
they  thought  that  ignorance  would  keep  the  common 
people  more  dutiful  and  in  a  greater  state  of  subjec- 
tion, or  because  consciousness  in  the  poor  of  their  own 
inferiority  seemed  likely  to  enhance  the  influence  of  the 
educated  and  the  rich.  Against  both  these  thoroughly 
selfish  arguments  Butler  nobly  protests.  "  Nor  let 
people  of  rank  flatter  themselves  that  ignorance  will 
keep  their  inferiors  more  dutiful  and  in  greater  sub- 
jection to  them  ;  for  surely  there  must  be  danger  that 
it  will  have  a  contrary  effect,  under  a  free  govern- 
ment such  as  ours,  and  in  a  dissolute  age.  Indeed, 
the  principles  and  manners  of  the  poor  as  to  virtue 
aud  religion  will  always  be  greatly  influenced,  as  they 
always  have  been,  by  the  example  of  theii'  superiors, 
if  that  would  mend  the  matter.  And  this  influence 
will,  I  suppose,  be  greater  if  they  are  kept  more 
inferior  than  formerly  in  all  knowledge  and  improve- 
ment. But  unless  their  superiors  of  the  present  age 
— superiors,  I  mean,  of  the  middle  as  well  as  higher 
ranks  in  society — are  greater  examples  of  pubhc  spirit, 

»  Ss.  ii.  §  8.  -  Ss.  iv.  §  15. 


MORAL  PRACTICE  AND  THEORY  IN  ENGLAND  67 


of  dutiful  submission  to  authority,  humau  and  divine, 
of  moderation  in  diversions,  of  proper  care  of  their 
families  and  domestic  ailliirs  ;  unless,  I  say,  superiors  of 
the  present  age  are  greater  examples  of  decency,  virtue, 
and  religion  than  those  of  former  times,  for  what  reason 
in  the  VForld  is  it  desirable  that  theii-  example  should 
have  this  greater  influence  over  the  poor  ?  "  ^  But  the 
condition  of  the  upper  classes  being  such  as  he  has 
described  it,  selfish,  frivolous,  and  narrow-minded,  it 
cannot  be  surprising  if  the  lower  classes,  over  whom 
they  exercised  an  influence  so  predominant,  were  de- 
moralised also,  and  became  like  their  betters,  selfish  and 
sordid.  This  demoralisation,  however,  was  noticeable 
chiefly  in  the  towns. 

In  them  the  scoffs  and  jeers  against  religion  which 
went  the  rounds  of  the  salons  of  the  great  and  the 
coffee-houses  of  the  literary,  were  repeated  in  coarser 
forms  in  the  taverns  and  the  alehouses  frequented  by 
the  poor,  and  produced  there  their  baleful  effects.  Men 
grew  not  only  indifferent  to  religion,  but  actively  hostile 
against  it.  In  the  country  the  case  was  different.  The 
clergy,  particularly  the  non-juring  and  High  Churcli 
clergy,  exercised  here  a  real  and  potent  influence  ;  and 
though,  as  we  should  gather  both  from  Butler's  sermons 
and  Charge,  indifference  to  religion  was  sadly  prevalent, 
and  the  duty  of  instructing  the  poor,  and  even  that  of 
keeping  the  churches  in  decent  repair,  often  neglected, 
yet  any  overt  acts  of  hostility  to  religion  were  deeply 
resented,  and  were  quite  likely  to  draw  down  on  the 
perpetrator  of  them  condign  punishment.  We  may  say, 
then,  that  in  the  country,  religion,  if  not  a  very  active, 
was  a  powerful  and  conservative  influence,  one  which 
men  were  most  unwilling  to  part  with,  even  though  it 
slumbered  and  was  apparently  lifeless. 

There  was,  moreover,  another  cause  of  demoralisa- 


68     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


tion,  destructive  alike  of  morality  and  religion, 
frightfully  i^revalent  at  this  time  in  the  cities,  from 
which  the  inhabitants  of  the  country  districts  remained 
comparatively  free.  This  was  the  habit  of  spirit- 
drinking,  wliich,  imported,  it  is  said,  originally  from 
Holland,  prevailed  to  a  hideous  and  alarming  extent 
in  London  and  the  other  great  towns.  Historians  tell 
us  that  never  did  drinking  rise  to  such  a  height,  or 
assume  such  degrading  and  repulsive  forms,  as  in  the 
early  years  of  George  i.'s  reign  ;  and  though  legislative 
action  did  something  to  check  it,  the  evil  continued  to 
be  disastrously  prevalent  throughout  the  reigns  of  his 
two  successors.  In  the  country,  beer  and  not  spirits 
remained  the  staple  drink  of  the  people ;  and  while 
habits  of  hard  drinking  prevailed  among  all  classes,  the 
effects  of  drinking  deep  potations  of  beer  were  less 
permanent  and  less  disastrous  than  were  those  which 
the  spirit-drinking  debauches  of  the  towns  caused.^ 

It  remains  to  say  something  now  of  the  position  and 
condition  of  the  clergy  before  proceeding  to  speak  of 
the  more  professed  moral  teachers  of  the  times.  That, 

'  Of  the  effects  of  the  introduction  of  this  disastrous  habit  Mr. 
Lecky  thus  writes  :  "It  was  not  till  about  the  year  1724  that  the 
passion  for  gin-drinking  appears  to  have  affected  the  masses  of  the 
population,  and  it  spread  with  the  rapidity  and  violence  of  an 
epidemic.  Small  as  is  the  place  which  this  fact  occupies  in  English 
liistory,  it  was  probably,  if  we  consider  all  the  consequences  which 
have  flowed  from  it,  the  most  momentous  in  that  of  the  eighteenth 
century — incomparably  more  so  tlian  any  event  in  the  purely  political 
or  military  annals  of  the  country.  The  fatal  passion  for  drink  was 
at  once  and  irrevocably  implanted  in  the  nation.  And  the  conse- 
quences were  thus  described  by  a  contemporary  :  '  There  is  not  only 
no  safety  in  living  in  this  town  (Loudon),  but  scarcely  any  in  the 
country  now,  robbery  and  murder  have  grown  so  frequent.  Our 
pcdplo  have  now  become,  what  they  never  before  were,  cruel  and 
inhuman.  These  accursed  spirituous  liquors,  which  to  the  shame  of 
(lur  gdViTiiment  are  so  easily  to  be  had  and  in  such  quantities  drunk, 
have  ehangi'd  the  very  nature  of  our  people,  and  they  will,  if  con- 
tinued to  be  drank,  desti-oy  the  very  race  of  the  people  themselves.' " 
—Hist,  of  England,  vol.  i.  479  -481. 


MORAL  PRACTICE  AND  THEORY  IN  ENGLAND  69 


on  the  whole,  the  clergy  were  ueitlier  popular  nor 
respected  is  sufficiently  evident  from  contemporary 
literature.  "The  unedifying  lives  of  the  clergy  are," 
writes  Mr.  Pattison,  "a  standard  theme  of  sarcasm,  and 
continued  to  be  so  till  a  late  period  in  the  centuiy."  ^ 
Dr.  Brown,  while  finding  fault  with  the  little  respect  in 
which  the  olfice  of  the  clergy  was  held,  as  being  the 
natm-al  result  of  the  general  decay  of  religion  by  which 
he  beheves  the  times  to  be  characterised,  hints  that  too 
often  the  lives  and  conduct  of  the  clergy  palliated,  if 
they  did  not  justify,  this  low  estimate ;  and  Butler's 
writings  contain  much  which  seems  to  bear  out  such 
a  statement.  He  notices  in  one  place  "  how  general 
was  the  discontinuance  of  that  religious  intercourse 
between  pastors  and  people  in  private,  which  remains 
in  Protestant  churches  abroad  as  well  as  in  the  Church 
of  Eome  ;  and  how  small  was  the  public  care  and  pro- 
vision for  keeping  up  a  sense  of  religion  in  the  lower 
ranks,  except  by  distributing  religious  books."  ^  He 
observes  in  another  place  that  "  the  churches,  again, 
partly  by  the  fault  of  the  laity,  ljut  partly  also  by 
that  of  the  clergy  themselves,  have  fallen  into  such 
disrepair  that,  to  quote  the  words  of  Bishop  Fleetwood, 
'  unless  the  good  public  spirit  of  building,  repairing, 
and  adorning  churches  prevails  a  great  deal  more 
amongst  us,  and  be  more  encouraged,  an  hundred 
years  will  bring  to  the  ground  an  huge  number  of 
our  churches ' " ;  adding,  that  "  while  the  excellent  pre- 
late made  this  observation  forty  years  ago,  no  one  will 
imagine  that  the  good  spirit  which  he  has  recom- 
mended prevails  more  at  present  than  it  did  then."^ 
The  exhortations  which  he  gives  to  his  clergy  to  keep 
up  the  services  witli  a  due  regard  to  decency  and 
dignity,  to  enforce  upon  their  people  the  duty  of  family 

1  Pattisou'.s  Essays,  vol.  ii.,  Essay  IL  p.  105.         ^  § 
3  Charge,  §  18. 


70     BISHOP  BUTLEE  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


and  private  prayer,  and  of  saying  grace  at  meals,  to 
make  use  of  the  opportunities  presented  by  confirmation 
and  first  communion,  by  times  of  sickness  and  the  great 
festivals,  for  teaching  wliolesome  truths  to  their  parish- 
ioners, show  into  what  general  neglect  the  performance 
of  such  duties  had  fallen.  Indeed,  the  rapidity  with 
which  the  Wesleyan  movement  spread,  the  eagerness 
with  which  the  people  flocked  to  listen  to  preaching 
which,  often  uninstructed  and  ill-balanced,  and  some- 
times even  hysterical  and  harmful,  was  at  least  earnest 
and  soul-stirring,  furnish  the  most  eloquent  testimony  to 
the  imperfection  of  the  sermons  and  ministrations  of 
the  authorised  clergy,  and  prove  how  greatly  the  people 
felt  their  deeper  yearnings  and  sorer  spiritual  needs 
unsounded  and  unsatisfied. 

Yet  we  should  make  a  great  mistake  if  we  were  to 
underrate  the  influence  even  of  the  country  clergy.  It 
was  no  longer,  perhaps,  that  which  it  had  been  in  the 
days  of  Queen  Anne.  The  mass  of  the  population  had 
come  to  acquiesce  in  the  new  regime,  while  the  body  of 
the  country  clergy  still  held  back  and  nourished,  more 
or  less  in  secret,  their  Jacobite  proclivities.  This 
created  a  certain  barrier  between  them  and  the 
people  generally;  notably  was  this  the  case  with 
the  non-juring  clergy,  in  whose  ranks  some  of  the 
worthiest,  the  most  saintly,  and  therefore  most  influ- 
ential, characters  were  to  be  found.  Yet  in  spite  of 
this,  and  in  spite  of  their  many  shortcomings,  the 
rural  parochial  clergy  remained  the  recognised  ex- 
ponents of  the  religious  consciousness  of  the  people, 
their  admitted  guides,  their  counsellors  and  comforters. 
The  ignorance  in  which  the  mass  of  the  population 
was  plunged  tended  to  increase  their  influence;  those 
who  could  not  seek  the  guidance  of  books,  and  were 
stiU  unacquainted  with  the  somewhat  doubtful  bless- 
ings of  a  popular  newspaper  press,  were  necessarily 


MORAL  PRACTICE  AND  THEORY  IN  ENGLAND  71 


thrown  back  on  the  instructions  of  an  accredited 
clergy  for  their  ideas  and  beliefs.  And  in  spite  of 
the  somewhat  superficial  unbelief  of  the  towns,  and 
the  light-hearted  and  frivolous  scepticism  of  the  upper 
classes  who  frequented  the  club-houses  and  theatres, 
the  main  bulk  of  the  quiet  population  remained  at 
lieart  religious.  That  this  is  so  may  be  gathered, 
among  other  proofs,  from  the  many  complaints  which 
heretical  writers  make  of  the  difficulty  they  found  in 
gaining  a  hearing  for  their  opinions,  and  the  care  that 
they  take  to  express  them  in  such  a  form  as  should  not 
offend  too  openly  the  religious  susceptibilities  of  their 
readers.^ 

The  character  of  the  influence  of  the  town  clergy 
was  of  another  kind.  They  aspired  to  be,  and  to  a 
great  extent  were,  leaders  of  thought.  Tillotson, 
Sherlock,  Cudworth,  Clarke,  Seeker,  Benson,  Eundle, 
Browne,  Warburton,  and  Berkeley  were  all  men  of  note 
in  their  different  lines.  It  was  from  the  ranks  of  such 
men  that  the  bishops  were  chiefly  chosen,  and  it  is 
doubtful  whether  at  any  period  in  our  history  a  more 
distinguished  bench  of  bishops  is  to  be  found  than  those 
wlio  were  gathered  together  in  the  reign  of  George  II., 
chiefly  through  the  judicious  exercise  of  patronage  on 
the  part  of  Queen  Caroline.  But  the  spiritual  force  of 
most  of  them,  with  the  notable  exceptions  of  Butler, 
Berkeley,  and  Benson,  was  by  no  means  equal  to  their 
intellectual  eminence ;  and  they  naturally  failed  to  in- 

'  To  show  liow  strong  was  the  hold  wliich  religion  still  had  on  tlie 
bulk  of  the  people,  Mattliew  Arnold  quotes  the  following  passage  from  a 
contemporary  paper — the  Independent  Whig — which,  after  giving  nmch 
good  advice  to  the  clergy  to  adopt  a  more  liberal  tone,  continues  : 
"  The  High  Church,  popish  clergy  will  laugh  in  their  sleeves  at  this 
advice,  and  think  that  there  is  folly  enough  yet  left  among  the  laity 
to  support  their  authority  ;  and  will  hug  theniselvus  and  rejoice  over 
tlie  ignorance  of  the  universities,  the  stupidity  of  the  drunken  squires, 
the  panic  of  the  tender  sc.\,  and  the  ncver-lo-bc-shakcii  constancy  of  the 
multitude." 


72     BISHOP  BUTLER  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


spire  in  others  a  strength  and  warmth  of  conviction 
which  they  lacked  in  themselves.  They  were  conse- 
quently more  successful  in  meeting  objections  which 
were  urged  by  opponents  than  in  making  the  religion 
which  they  defended  an  active  and  ruling  force  in  the 
world.  The  "  reason  "  to  which,  in  common  with  all  the 
philosophers  of  their  time,  they  made  their  habitual  and 
ultimate  appeal,  has  ever  been  found,  imless  the  heart 
is  also  touched,  inadequate  as  a  motive  power ;  and  so 
now  too  it  proved.  Another  fact  which  weakened  theii' 
influence  was  this — that,  since  they  owed  their  promo- 
tion for  the  most  part  to  those  who  were  themselves 
notoriously  indifferent  to  the  interests  of  religion, 
people  too  readily  assumed  that  they  simply  held  a 
brief  for  the  orthodox  side,  and  that  their  conclusions 
were  the  result  not  so  much  of  genuine  conviction  as 
of  the  exigencies  of  their  position.  The  general  upshot 
thus  was  that  the  clergy  who  were  trusted  had  scarcely 
the  intellectual  ability  to  lead,  while  those  who  might 
have  been  leaders  were  but  little  trusted.  Butler  seems 
to  have  owed  his  exalted  position,  and  the  commanding 
influence  which  apparently,  even  at  the  first,  his  writings 
exerted,  to  the  fact,  that  with  undoubted  intellectual 
eminence  he  combined  a  no  less  imdoubted  honesty  and 
sincerity  of  religious  conviction.  Benson  and  Berkeley 
among  his  contemporaries  had  the  same  deep  reUgious 
faith  and  obvious  integritj'  of  purpose ;  but  Benson  was 
by  no  means  Butler's  equal  intellectually ;  and,  though 
Berkeley  was  so,  yet  his  speculative  turn  of  mind  and 
his  almost  paradoxical  idealism  rendered  his  writings 
far  less  popular  and  far  less  influential  among  his 
contemporaries  than  were  those  of  Bishop  Butler. 

We  must  now  turn  to  consider  what  was  the 
accredited  moral  teaching  of  the  time,  current  among 
the  philosophers  when  Butler  began  to  preach  and 
write.     The  founder  of  what  has  been  called  inde- 


MORAL  PEACTICE  AND  THEORY  IN  ENGLAND  73 


pendent  moral  philosophy  in  England  was  Hobbes. 
He  was  the  first  who  attempted  to  construct  a  system 
of  ethics  entirely  unconnected  with  religion,  and  rest- 
ing on  its  own  basis.  The  foundation  for  such  a  system 
he  sought  in  the  primary  necessities  of  himian  nature. 
Man,  he  held,  was  obviously  at  the  outset,  and  really 
always,  a  purely  selfish  being,  actuated  exclusively  by 
self-regarding  impulses.  These  impulses  sometimes, 
indeed,  hid  themselves  under  a  cloak  of  apparent  un- 
selfishness ;  but  strip  away  the  cloak  by  a  little 
analysis,  and  their  true  nature  stands  at  once  revealed. 
This  is  the  task  which  in  his  definitions  of  the  different 
passions  Hobbes  set  himself ;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  he  carries  it  out  with  marked  ability  and  not  a  little 
cynicism  and  brutality.  Thus  religion  is  defined  by 
him  as  "  fear  of  power  invisible  feigned  by  the  mind  or 
imagined  from  tales  publicly  allowed  " ;  where  such  tales 
are  not  allowed,  the  fear  becomes  superstition.  Ad- 
miration is  "  joy  from  the  apprehension  of  novelty  " ; 
Y>ity  is  "  grief  for  the  calamity  of  another,  and  ariseth 
from  the  imagination  that  the  like  calamity  may  befall 
himself,  and  therefore  is  called  also  compassion."  ^ 

But  from  this  constitution  of  his  nature,  and  "  since 
men's  desires  are  for  the  most  part  the  same,  and  their 
power  of  hurting  one  another  not  unequal,"  it  follows 
inevitably  that  man  in  his  natural  state  lives  in  a  state 
of  war,  his  hand  against  every  man  and  every  man's  hand 
against  him.  In  such  a  state  of  war  there  is  obviously 
"  no  place  for  industry ;  because  the  fruit  thereof  is  un- 
certain ;  and  consequently  no  culture  of  the  earth ;  no 
navigation,  nor  use  of  the  commodities  that  may  be 
imported  by  sea ;  no  commodious  building ;  no  instru- 
ments of  moving  or  removing  such  things  as  require 
much  force ;  no  knowledge  of  the  face  of  the  earth ;  no 
account  of  time ;  no  arts ;  no  letters ;  no  society ;  and, 

■  Hobbes,  Lev. ,  part  i.  cliaji.  vi. 


74     BISHOP  BUTLER  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


which  is  worst  of  all,  continual  fear  and  danger  of 
violent  death  ;  and  the  Ufe  of  man,  solitary,  poor,  nasty, 
brutish,  and  short."  ^  In  such  a  state  of  nature  there 
is  obviously,  further,  no  place  for  moraUty  and  no 
ground  for  moral  obligation. 

To  escape,  then,  from  such  a  vile  condition  becomes  at 
once  man's  first  interest  and  his  primary  duty.  "To 
seek  peace  and  ensue  it,"  is  the  first  law  of  nature ;  and 
the  second,  "that  a  man  be  willing,  when  others  are 
so  too,  as  far  forth  as  for  peace  and  defence  of  himself 
he  shall  think  it  necessary,  to  lay  down  his  natural 
right  to  all  things ;  and  be  contented  with  as  much 
liberty  against  other  men,  as  he  woidd  allow  other  men 
against  himself."  It  is  in  accordance  with  these  laws 
that  man  enters  into  a  "  Social  Contract,"  and  cove- 
nants with  those  about  him  to  establish  that  "  Sovereign 
Power "  which  shaU  prevent  him  and  his  fellows  from 
ever  sinking  back  into  that  appalling  state  of  nature 
from  which  civil  society  has  been  called  into  existence 
to  deliver  them.  It  is  only  with  the  establishment 
of  a  power  capable  of  enforcing  its  commands  that 
moraUty  first  emerges ;  and  the  rules  of  morahty  are 
the  rules  which  the  Sovereign  Power  lays  down  with  a 
view  to  the  maintenance  of  peace.  The  sanction  for 
the  observance  of  these  rules  is  to  be  found,  partly 
in  the  fact  that  the  Sovereign  Power  is  able  to  and 
does  actually  affix  penalties  to  any  breach  of  them ; 
partly  in  that  the  non-observance  of  them  in  any  part 
would  tend  to  bring  back  "that  dissolute  order  of 
masterless  men  "  which  is  the  worst  and  most  extreme 
of  human  ills.^ 
•j  We  see  thus  that  morality  has  in  Hobbes's  view  no 
inherent  or  antecedent  sanctity ;  it  derives  its  force  from 
human  ordinance,  and  its  value  from  its  conduciveness 

'  Hobbes,  Lev.,  part  i.  chap.  xiii.  -  Ibid,  part  i.  chap.  xiv. 

^  Ibid,  cbaps.  xvii.,  xviii. 


MOEAL  PRACTICE  AND  THEORY  IN  ENGLAND  75 


to  the  permanence  of  human  society  and  to  the  deliver- 
ance of  man  from  that  sense  of  insecurity  from  which, 
beyond  all  else,  he  must  pray  to  be  delivered.  Good 
is,  for  him,  only  "  whatsoever  is  the  object  of  any  man's 
desire,"  and  "  the  object  of  Iiis  hate  and  aversion,"  evil : 
pulchrum,  or  fair,  is  "  that  which  by  some  apparent  sign 
promiseth  good  "  ;  and  turjjc,  the  foul  or  base,  is  "  that 
which  promiseth  evil  "  ;  the  honourable  is  "  whatsoever 
possession,  action,  or  quaUty  is  an  argument  or  sign  of 
power  "  ;  and  the  dishonourable  is  the  reverse.  Worthi- 
ness "  consisteth  in  a  particular  power  or  ability  for  that 
whereof  he  is  said  to  be  worthy."  ^  Tims  there  are  no 
moral  distinctions  antecedent  to  positive  law,  and  he 
who  would  know  what  to  do  and  what  to  avoid,  what 
to  pursue  and  what  to  abstain  from,  has  only  to  consult 
the  law,  or,  if  the  interpretation  of  the  law  be  still 
doubtful,  then  the  judge.  The  same  law  will  not,  it  is 
true,  be  everywhere  in  force  (thougli  Hobbes  seems  to 
assume  that  in  most  civilised  societies  the  laws  laid 
down  will  not  greatly  vary),  but  the  law,  whatever  it 
be,  will  have  everywhere  the  same  sanctity  and  the 
same  absolute  right  to  be  obeyed.  It  is  obvious  that 
imder  such  a  system  there  is  no  place  at  all  for  the 
individual  conscience,  and  only  so  much  place  for  reason 
and  prudence  that  a  man  is  left  free  to  gratify  his 
desires  as  he  likes  within  the  limits  prescribed  by  the 
law. 

The  subsequent  writer  by  whom  Hobbes's  principles 
were  most  logically  developed,  and  pushed  most  uncom- 
promisingly into  all  their  most  repulsive  consequences, 
was  Bernard  de  Mandeville.  His  best  known  work, 
the  FaUe  of  the  Bees,  appeared,  in  tlie  reprint  which 
first  attracted  attention,  in  1723,  three  years  only  before 
Butler's  appointment  as  preacher  at  the  Eolls.  While 
Butler's  writings  contain  no  direct  reference  to  this 
'  Hobbes,  Lev.,  part  i.  chaps,  vi.,  x. 


76     BISHOP  BUTLER  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


work,  there  can  be  but  little  doubt  that  one  object 
which  he  has  in  all  his  sermons,  but  more  especially  in 
those  on  human  nature,  is  to  correct  the  one-sided, 
paradoxical,  and  unworthy  picture  of  that  nature  which 
Mandeville  had  presented.  In  the  Fable  of  the  Bees 
Mandeville's  main  contention  is  that "  private  %dces  "  are 
"  public  benefits,"  a  statement  which  he  gives  as  the  alter- 
native title  of  his  work.  This  position  he  attempts  to 
prove,  first  of  all,  by  insisting  on  the  important  part 
which  caprice,  extravagance,  and  prodigahty  generally 
play  in  giving  employment  to  labour ;  next,  by  pointing 
out  that  the  passions  of  men,  pride,  lust,  and  cruelty, 
have  been  the  great  moving  forces  which  have  shaped 
society,  as  we  see  it,  and  wrought  out  the  complex 
structure  of  a  civilised  nation;  and,  what  is  more, 
they  are  still  the  great  moving  powers,  though  we  hide 
them  under  decorous  disguises.^  There  is,  of  course, 
truth  in  both  contentions,  though  the  fallacy  in  both  is 
clear  enough.  Had  man  no  wants,  had  man  even  very 
few  wants,  so  he  subsequently  modifies  and  explains  his 
own  assertion  when  taken  to  task  for  it,  any  consider- 
able advance  in  material  civilisation  would  be  indeed 
impossible.  A  Trappist  community  could  hardly 
support  a  thriving  commercial  organisation.  And  yet 
it  does  not  follow  that  it  is  our  worst  wants  which 
employ  labour  most  profitably,  or  that  it  is  he  who 
spends,  rather  than  he  who  saves,  who  benefits  society 
most.  And  again,  while  pride,  lust,  and  cruelty  have 
played  their  part  in  building  up  society,  they  are  even 
more  responsible  for  its  evils  than  they  are  for  its 
blessings ;  indeed,  they  themselves  constitute  in  no  small 
measure  those  evils ;  and  they  could  not  have  built  up 
society  at  all  had  they  not  been  in  a  measiu-e  controlled 
by  the  virtues  which  Mandeville  decries,  and  the  better 
impulses  whose  reality  he  denies.    For  it  was  another 

'  Leslie  Stephen,  English  Thought,  etc.,  vol.  ii.  chap.  ix.  p.  39. 


MOEAL  PEACTICE  AND  THEORY  IN  ENGLAND  77 

part  of  his  theory  to  maintain  that  the  so-called  virtues 
were  merely  the  results  wliieh  moralists,  law-givers, 
and  philosophers  had  by  flattery  extracted  from  the 
pride  of  mankind.  In  themselves  these  qualities  had 
no  intrinsic  value ;  they  contributed  nothing  to  the 
happiness  or  well-being  of  society.  Men  have  been 
cajoled  into  praising  them  and  persuaded  into  admiring 
them  by  those  who  wished  to  impose  upon  them  by 
these  means.  In  the  same  way,  all  allegation  of 
impulses  which  have  not  a  directly  selfish  or  self- 
regarding  character  he  denounces  as  mere  hypocrisy. 
Benevolence  is  dictated  at  best  by  the  hope  of  the 
return  which  may  be  secured  by  it ;  society  and  the 
social  instincts  have  grown  out  of  men's  struggles,  and 
are  promoted  by  us  merely  from  a  sense  of  their  use- 
fulness ;  religion  is  but  the  outgrowth  of  that  natural 
fetichism  which  induces  young  children  to  fancy  that 
everything  thinks  and  feels  as  they  do  themselves  ; 
parental  affection  has  no  merit,  it  is  implanted  in  us  by 
nature,  it  is  but  a  means  of  pleasing  ourselves ;  it  may 
be  exhibited  by  the  basest  as  well  as  by  the  best ;  con- 
science itself  is  a  mere  sham,  a  convenient  cloak  with 
which  to  disguise  conduct  really  prompted  by  quite 
different  motives.  Any  instinct,  it  has  been  well  said,i 
which  Mandeville  cannot  explain,  or  of  which,  we  may 
add,  he  is  not  himself  conscious,  he  denies ;  and  of  the 
finer  and  nobler  instincts  he  can  give  no  explanation, 
and  had,  alas  !  but  little  experience. 

The  opposition  to  the  doctrines  of  Hobbes  and  Mande- 
ville took  two  contrary  directions.  On  the  one  hand, 
an  attempt  was  made  to  establish  the  "  eternal  and 
immutable  "  character  of  moral  distinctions  by  showing 
that  these  distinctions  were  rooted  in  reason  and  in  the 
necessary  relations  of  things  which  reason  apprehends  ; 
on  the  other  hand,  Hobbes  was  directly  met  on  his  own 
>  Leslie  Stephen,  English  Thought,  etc.,  vol.  ii.  p.  4L 


78     BISHOP  BUTLEE:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


ground ;  and  it  was  shown  by  an  appeal  to  facts  that 
he  had  presented  an  imperfect  and  distorted  view  of 
human  nature  as  it  actually  exists;  that  he  had  left 
wholly  out  of  account  some  of  its  most  indubitable  and 
essential  elements;  and  had  misrepresented  some  of 
its  most  notable  characteristics.  The  chief  exponents 
of  the  former  method  are  Cudworth,  Samuel  Clarke, 
and  WoUaston  ;  of  the  latter,  Shaftesbury,  Hutcheson, 
and  Butler  himself.  This  difference  of  method,  observ- 
able among  the  moralists  of  his  time,  Butler  has  himself 
called  attention  to,  and  has  notified  his  adherence  to  the 
latter  rather  than  the  former  school.^  "  There  are,"  he 
says,  "  two  ways  in  which  the  subject  of  morals  may  be 
treated.  One  begins  from  inquiring  into  the  abstract  re- 
lations of  things  ;  the  other,  from  a  matter  of  fact,namely, 
what  the  particular  nature  of  man  is,  its  several  parts, 
their  economy  or  constitution  ;  from  whence  it  proceeds 
to  determine  what  course  of  life  it  is,  which  is  corre- 
spondent to  this  whole  nature.  In  the  former  method 
the  conclusion  is  expressed  thus,  that  vice  is  contrary 
to  the  nature  and  reason  of  things  ;  in  the  latter,  that 
it  is  a  violation  or  breaking  in  upon  our  own  natm-e. 
Thus  they  both  lead  us  to  the  same  thing,  our  obliga- 
tions to  the  practice  of  virtue ;  and  thus  they  exceedingly 
strengthen  and  enforce  each  other.  The  first  seems  the 
most  direct  formal  proof,  and  in  some  respects  the  least 
liable  to  cavil  and  dispute ;  the  latter  is  in  a  peculiar 
manner  adapted  to  satisfy  a  fair  mind,  and  is  more 
easily  applicable  to  the  several  particular  relations  and 
circumstances  in  life." 

Among  the  adherents  of  each  of  these  methods  there 
were,  again,  not  unimportant  differences  in  their  point 
of  view.  Cudworth  was  a  Platonist,  and  his  arguments 
were  fashioned  on  a  Platonic  model.  Eight  and  wrong, 
good  and  bad,  were  by  him  regarded  as  the  necessary, 
'  Sermons,  Preface,  §  7,  above,  p.  8. 


MORAL  PRACTICE  AND  THEORY  IN  ENGLAND  79 


and  so  the  eternal  and  immutable,  forms  under  which 
the  mind  regarded  the  actions  of  personal  beings.  The 
mind  did  not  derive  the  ideas  from  the  actions,  but  they 
were  points  of  view,  aspects,  or  categories  from  which  it 
inevitably  regarded  the  actions ;  it  could  not  think  of 
the  actions  of  personal  and  intelligent  beings  except  as 
exhibiting  these  characteristics  ;  being  thus  conditioning 
factors  in  all  the  mind's  experience,  they  could  not 
themselves  be  the  result  of  that  experience.  That  they 
have  an  objective  validity  was  shown  from  the  fact  that 
men  cannot  think  themselves  out  of  them.  And  further, 
since  they  are  the  conditions  under  which  all  minds 
regard  actions,  motives,  and  characters,  they  are  no  less 
conditions  of  the  Divine  mind  than  they  are  conditions 
of  the  human.  Different  minds  may  apprehend  them 
with  different  degrees  of  clearness ;  passion  may  obscure 
their  legitimate  influence,  desire  may  prevent  the  voice 
of  reason  being  attended  to  ;  but  to  reason  herself  the 
distinctions  are  ever  apparent,  and  so  far  as  men  guide 
themselves  by  reason,  so  far  will  their  conduct  be  in 
accordance  with  the  ideas  of  right  and  virtue.  For 
reason  no  less  recognises  the  obligatoriness  of  the  right 
than  the  rightness  of  the  relations  themselves. 

The  influence  which  most  moulded  Clarke's  thought 
was  that  of  Newton  rather  than  of  Plato.  Clarke,  in- 
deed, aspired  to  do  for  the  world  of  morals  what  New- 
ton had  done  for  the  physical  universe ;  to  introduce, 
that  is,  a  point  of  view  which  should  give  to  the  whole 
realm  coherence  and  consistency.  Adopting  a  doctrine  of 
Locke's,  that  the  truths  of  morality  are  no  less  capable 
of  demonstration  than  are  those  of  mathematics,  he 
attempted  actually  to  construct  a  demonstrative  science 
of  ethics.  The  two  propositions  which  he  lays  down  as 
fundamental  for  the  science  are — (1)  that  there  are 
necessary  and  eternal  relations,  that  different  things 
bear  one  to  another ;  and  a  consequent  fitness,  or  un- 


80     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


fitness,  of  the  application  of  different  things,  or  different 
relations,  one  to  another.  (2)  To  these,  as  data,  God 
necessarily  conforms  His  will,  and  this  confonnity 
constitutes  His  Justice,  Equity,  Goodness,  and  Truth 
towards  the  whole  Universe.  Our  voluntary  con- 
formity to  the  same  data  constitutes  the  corresponding 
virtues  in  us,  and  is  our  duty;  and  this  irrespective 
of  positive  command  or  of  personal  reward  and 
punishment.^  What  Clarke's  contention  then  amounts 
to  is  this — that  what  the  relations  are,  which  befit  a 
given  character  placed  under  given  circumstances,  can 
be  as  certainly  and  intuitively  apprehended  by  the 
reason,  as  what  are  the  geometrical  properties  which 
result  from  the  constitution  or  definition  of  a  given 
geometrical  figure.  Thus  the  infinite  superiority  of  God 
to  man  renders  reverence  and  obedience  fit  on  the  part 
of  man  to  God ;  since  it  is  true  that  on  God  we  depend, 
that  His  will  is  just  and  His  power  irresistible.  For 
God,  again,  it  is  intrinsically  fitter  to  work  by  rule  and 
order  than  by  chance  ;  to  secure  the  good  of  the  miiverse 
rather  than  its  misery;  and  to  reward  men  according 
to  their  deserts  rather  than  in  any  arbitrary  and  un- 
certain fashion.  Similarly,  we  perceive  at  once  that  it 
is  fitter  for  us  men  to  promote  the  good  than  the  ruin  of 
our  fellows,  and  that,  quite  apart  from  any  expected  re- 
compense or  reward.  "  To  call  in  question  these  differ- 
ences which  are  eternal  and  unchangeable  is,  in  Clarke's 
view,  no  less  absurd  than  to  doubt  whether  a  square  is 
double  of  a  triangle  of  the  same  base  and  height."  ^ 
There  is,  however,  he  admits,  this  difference  between  our 
judgments  in  morals  and  our  judgments  in  mathematics 
— that  in  morals  passion  is  apt  to  intervene  and  blind  our 
judgment,  whereas  in  our  mathematical  reasonings  there 

'  Mai  tineau,  Types  of  Ethical  Theory,  vol.  ii.  p.  430  ;  and  Clarke's 
Unallerdblc  Obligations,  pp.  174,  175. 
-  Martineau,  ihid.  p.  43. 


MORAL  PRACTICE  AND  THEORY  IN  ENGLAND  81 


is  no  similar  liability.  But  since  we  have  reason,  and  are 
free  to  follow  it,  we  are  without  excuse ;  and  are  well 
aware  of  our  obligation  to  do  voluntarily  the  thing  that 
our  passion  contests ;  of  which  we  have  clear  witness  in 
our  own  inward  assent  to  what  we  outwardly  contradict, 
and  in  our  self-condemnation  when  we  choose  the 
wrong.  The  unreasonableness  of  wilfully  wrong  action 
is  just  the  same  as  if  we  refused  assent  to  some 
demonstrated  certainty ;  it  is  a  vain  attempt  to  make 
things  be  what  they  are  not,  which  is  absurdity  and 
insolence.  "  So  far,  then,"  he  concludes,  "  as  men 
are  conscious  of  what  is  right  and  wrong,  so  far  they 
are  under  an  obligation  to  act  accordingly;  and  that 
eternal  rule  of  right  which  I  have  been  describing, 
'tis  evident  ought  as  indispensably  to  govern  men's 
actions  as  it  cannot  but  necessarily  determine  their 
assent."  ^  Wollaston  put  what  is  substantially  the  same 
doctrine  into  a  more  paradoxical  form  when  he  pro- 
claimed that  every  wrong  deed  or  crime  was  essentially 
a  lie,  the  willingly  deluding  ourselves  into  regarding  our 
act  or  our  relations  to  others  to  be  essentially  different 
from  what  they  really  are. 

Now,  not  to  raise  the  point,  which  is,  however,  not 
beyond  dispute,  whether  it  is  the  same  kind  of  reason, 
or  reason  acting  under  the  same  indispensable  conditions, 
which  apprehends  moral  relations  and  distinctions,  as 
that  which  apprehends  mathematical,  it  is  obvious  that 
the  demonstration  that  a  certain  action,  or  course  of 
conduct,  is  "  unreasonable,"  "  absurd,"  or  "  inconsistent" 
would  have  weight  at  most  with  those  who  already 
wish  that  their  conduct  should  be  governed  by  reason. 
To  most  wrong-doers,  we  fear,  the  proof  that  their 
conduct  is  absurd,  irrational,  inconsistent,  and  even 
"  untrue  to  fact,"  will  add  but  little  to  the  terrors  of 
wrong-doing ;  and  would  be  found  in  practice  but  a 

'  UncJianfjcalle  Obligations,  pp.  184-190. 

6 


82     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


feeble  deterrent.  And  after  all,  the  consciousness  of 
having  made  a  mistake  in  some  intellectual  process, 
however  mortifying  it  may  be  to  our  pride,  and  how- 
ever much  we  may  regret  it,  does  not  strike  us  as  being 
identical  with  the  sense  of  shame  and  guilt  we  feel 
when  the  performance  of  a  wrong  deed  in  some  im- 
portant matter  is  brought  home  to  us.  Thus,  however 
successful  the  intellectual  school  may  have  been  in 
establishing  against  Hobbes  and  Mandeville  the  eternal 
and  immutable  character  of  moral  distinctions,  it  can- 
not be  said  that  they  were  equally  successful  in 
constructing  a  system  which  should  have  practical 
weight  and  efficiency  in  enforcing  the  claims  of 
morality.  No  doubt,  it  were  to  be  wished  that  men 
would  always  act  reasonably  ;  as  a  matter  of  fact,  they 
are  constantly  content  to  set  reason  at  defiance,  and  to 
forfeit  without  a  shudder  their  claim  to  be  regarded  as 
rational  creatures. 

It  seems  to  have  been  some  sense  of  this  practical 
failure  and  weakness  of  the  intellectual  system  which 
drove  Shaftesbury  to  take  up  quite  a  different  line  in 
opposition  to  Hobbes.  With  Shaftesbmy  the  main 
interest  lies  not  in  showing  that  the  distinction  between 
virtue  and  vice  is  rooted  in  the  nature  of  things,  and 
only  therefore  apprehended  by  the  reason,  but  rather 
that  it  has  its  root  and  sanction  in  the  constitution  of 
human  nature.  It  is  to  him,  and  still  more  to  his 
follower  Hutcheson,  that  we  owe  the  phrases  "  moral 
sense,"  "  reflex  sense,"  "  sense  of  right  and  wrong."  By 
this  he  understood  an  immediate  perception,  analogous 
to  our  sense  of  beauty  or  sense  of  propriety,  which 
enables  us  to  recognise  that  which  is  "harmonious, 
proportionate,  and  suitable "  both  in  the  universe  at 
large  and  stiU  more  in  the  sphere  of  human  motive, 
passion,  and  conduct.  Such  a  sense  finds  pleasure 
in  and  is  gratified  by  that  which  is  accordant  to  it; 


MORAL  PRACTICE  AND  THEORY  IN  ENGLAND  83 


it  is  pained  and  outraged  by  all  that  jars  upon  it, 
and  is  discordant  with  it.  The  pleasure  which  the 
gratified  sense  ins^^ires  becomes  in  this  way,  at  least  in 
those  who  are  more  delicately  organised,  highly  ediicated 
and  full  of  sentiment,  a  strong  incentive  to  virtue  and 
virtuous  conduct ;  while  the  pain  which  the  outraged 
sense  inflicts,  at  least  on  similar  natures,  becomes  an 
equally  strong  deterrent  from  vice.  When  we  feel  that 
we  have  ourselves  acted  disproportionately  to  our 
nature,  allowing  the  lower  motives  to  triumph  over  the 
higher,  our  moral  sense  is  pained  and  grieved  ;  and  the 
same  takes  place  when  we  see  such  conduct  in  others. 
Thus  when  we  act  ourselves  from  purely  selfish  motives 
and  impulses,  neglecting  or  trampUng  upon  the  common 
good ;  or  gratify  revenge  where  the  repentance  of  the 
offender  pleads  for  pity  and  forgiveness ;  our  moral  sense 
rises  in  revolt  against  such  conduct,  we  are  shocked  and 
disgusted  by  it.  When,  on  the  other  hand,  a  sense  of 
public  duty  or  disinterested  benevolence  triumphs  over 
personal  gratification  or  malice,  our  moral  sense  is 
satisfied  and  delighted  in  the  contemplation  of  such 
an  action ;  we  admire  and  approve  of  it  whether  we 
recognise  it  in  ourselves  or  contemplate  it  in  others. 

To  this  theory  there  is,  however,  an  obvious  ob- 
jection— that  it  makes  the  distinction  between  virtue 
and  vice,  goodness  and  badness,  a  mere  matter  of  taste, 
a  sentiment  which  the  finer  natures  may  possess,  but 
which  may  be  wholly  wanting  in  the  coarser  and  less 
refined.  The  theory,  in  other  words,  furnishes  us  with 
no  objective  standard  of  right  and  wrong.  To  this 
Shaftesbury  replies,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  possi- 
bility of  the  perversion  of  the  moral  sense  will  not 
prove  its  general  untrustwor thin  ess,  any  more  than 
the  possibility  of  error  shows  that  the  reason  cannot 
arrive  at  truth.  And,  again,  that  just  as  there  is  an 
objective  standard  of  beauty,  to  the  apprehension  of 


84     BISHOP  BUTLER :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


which  all  educated  and  refined  people  approximate 
in  spite  of  occasional  variations  from  it;  so  even 
more  emphatically  is  there  a  recognised  standard  of 
right  and  wrong,  of  good  and  evil,  which  aU  right- 
minded  and  educated  men  will  agree  in,  to  attain  to 
which  will  be  for  such  a  true  pleasure,  to  depart  from 
it  a  real  pain,  even  though  here  also  occasional 
aberrations  are  to  be  found.  The  fact  that  right  and 
wrong,  good  and  evil,  are  recognised  by  human  faculty, 
a  faculty  which  in  virtue  of  its  being  personal  must  be 
also  subjective,  no  more  destroys  the  objective  validity 
of  the  distinctions  so  recognised,  than  does  the  fact  that 
beauty  is  apprehended  by  and  relative  to  himian 
perception  prove  that  beauty  has  no  real  or  objective 
existence.  In  both  cases,  as  in  the  case  of  truths 
apprehended  by  the  reason,  human  faculty  may  be  the 
means  of  revealing  to  us  a  world  of  abiding  and  eternal 
realities.  It  is  more  likely  that  it  is  so  than  that  it  is 
not  so.^  In  this  respect  Shaftesbury  seems  successfully 
to  repel  the  charge  of  arbitrariness  advanced  against 
his  theory. 

So  far,  indeed,  all  is  consistent  and  coherent:  he 
has  recognised  the  so-called  moral  sense  as  the  ultimate 
arbiter  among  the  conflicting  impulses  or  passions,  and 
the  courses  of  conduct  to  which  they  severally  point,  and 
he  has  claimed  for  its  promptings  reahty  and  a  right 
to  be  heard.  But  at  this  point  he  somewhat  unex- 
pectedly proceeds  to  ask  the  question — What  obligation 
is  there  to  virtue,  to  act,  that  is,  in  accordance  with 
the  promptings  of  the  moral  sense  ?  What  reason  have 
we  to  follow  its  dictates  ?  The  answer  that  he  returns 
is,  that  to  promote  virtue  is  the  surest  road  to  happiness, 
just  as  to  be  vicious  entails  most  certain  misery.  Both 
question  and  answer  seem  aUke  an  rmnecessary  appen- 
dix to  his  whole  theory ;  for  if  the  moral  sense  brings 

'  Characteristics,  vol.  ii.  part  iii.  §  1. 


MORAL  PRACTICE  AND  THEORY  IN  ENGLAND  85 


with  it,  as  he  seems  to  suggest,  its  own  credentials,  why 
ask  at  all  why  we  are  bound  to  listen  to  it  ?  And  the 
answer  as  given  by  Shaftesbury  to  enforce  his  system 
is  open,  as  Butler  points  out,  to  the  following  objection  : 
"  The  not  taking  into  consideration  this  authority,  which 
is  implied  in  the  idea  of  reflex  approbation,  or  disappro- 
bation, seems  a  material  deficiency  or  omission  in  Lord 
Shaftesbury's  Inquiry  concerning  Virtue.  He  has  shown 
beyond  all  contradiction  that  virtue  is  naturally  the 
interest  or  happiness,  and  vice  the  misery,  of  such 
a  creature  as  man,  placed  in  the  circumstances  which 
we  are  in  this  world.  But  suppose  there  are  particular 
exceptions,  a  case  which  this  author  was  unwilling  to 
put,  and  yet  surely  it  is  to  be  put ;  or  suppose — a 
case  which  he  has  put  and  determined — that  of  a 
sceptic  not  convinced  of  this  happy  tendency  of  virtue, 
or  being  of  a  contrary  opinion.  His  determination  is 
that  it  would  be  without  remedy.  One  may  say  more 
expHcitly,  that,  leaving  out  the  authority  of  reflex 
approbation  or  disapprobation,  such  an  one  would  be 
under  an  obligation  to  act  viciously;  since  interest, 
one's  own  happiness,  is  a  manifest  obligation,  and 
there  is  not  supposed  to  be  any  other  obligation  in 
the  case."^ 

Yet  though  the  making  the  obligation  to  virtue 
to  arise  from  its  tendency  to  promote  happiness,  and 
the  deterrent  from  vice  to  consist  in  the  misery 
which  is  sure  to  follow  from  it,  be  an  excrescence 
and,  from  one  point  of  view,  a  weakness  in  Shaftes- 
bury's system,  from  another  it  undoubtedly  adds 
strength  and  cohesion  to  it.  For  Shaftesbury's  desire 
was  to  show  that  the  world,  as  it  is  actually  con- 
stituted, is  an  abode  well  adapted  to  be  the  home 
of  such  a  moral  being  as  man  is ;  and  that  therefore 
it  is  reasonable  to  conclude  that  the  Author  of  the 

'  Sermons,  Preface,  §  20. 


86     BISHOP  BUTLEK:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


universe  is  one  and  the  same  with  the  Author  of 
man's  moral  nature,  and  that  so  far  all  things  are 
of  a  piece;  but  towards  establishing  this  it  is  of  the 
first  importance  to  prove  that  in  the  world,  as  we  know 
it,  virtue  is  generally  rewarded  by  happiness  and  vice 
punished  with  misery.  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen,  indeed, 
finds  great  fault  with  Shaftesbury  for  holding  and 
attempting  to  estabhsh  such  comfortable  doctrines.  He 
tries  himself  to  show  that  the  world  is  an  ill-adjusted 
place  for  a  moral  and,  perhaps,  even  for  any  intel- 
ligent being;  and  that  misery  and  misfortune  haunt 
the  good  almost  equally  with  the  bad.  But  against 
this  view  we  have  Butler's  candid  admission,  "  that 
Shaftesbury  has  shown  beyond  all  contradiction  that 
virtue  is  naturally  the  interest  or  happiness,  and  vice 
the  misery,  of  such  a  creature  as  man,  placed  in  the 
circumstances  that  we  are  in  this  world  " ;  and  though 
we  may  admit  that  Shaftesbury's  good  nature,  and  his 
own  fortunate  position  and  polished  and  happy  temper, 
may  have  led  him  to  take  a  more  favourable  view  of 
the  world  and  its  adaptation  to  a  virtuous  human 
life  than  the  facts  will  warrant,  yet  we  must  remember 
that  the  danger  of  exaggeration  on  the  other  side  is 
almost  equally  great ;  and  tliat  those  wlio  exaggerate 
in  this  direction  undermine  what  must  always  remain 
one  of  the  great  arguments  for  believing  in  the  justice 
and  wisdom  of  God,  and  one  of  the  best  supports  which 
human  frailty  can  receive. 

It  was  into  such  a  state  of  moral  practice  and  opinion 
that  Butler,  coming  up  to  London  almost  directly  after 
he  had  taken  his  degree,  found  himself  plunged.  His 
position  as  preacher  at  the  KoUs  secured  him  an 
audience  and  gave  him  a  certain  prominence,  and  he 
began  almost  at  once  to  take  a  part  in  the  fight. 
Against  the  selfishness  and  moral  scepticism  of  the 
age,  finding  its  philosophical  expression  in  the  system 


MORAL  PEACTICE  AND  THEORY  IN  ENGLAND  87 

of  Hobbes  and  Mandeville,  he  stepped  forward  at  once 
as  a  strenuous  adversary.  Yet  he  ranged  himself  under 
the  banner  of  neither  of  the  recognised  opponents  of 
Hobbism.  The  lack  of  moral  sanction  from  which 
their  doctrine  suffered  repelled  him  from  the  system 
of  the  rationalists  ;  Shaftesbury's  teaching,  while  he 
approved  of  its  method,  appeared  to  him  too  exclusive 
and  restricted,  a  system  better  adapted  to  appeal  to 
the  sentiments  of  the  educated  and  cultivated  few 
than  to  satisfy  the  wants  of  the  many.  A  fresh 
foundation  had,  he  held,  to  be  laid  in  a  more  careful 
scrutiny  of  the  facts,  and  in  a  more  scientific  and 
better-considered  psychology. 


CHAPTER  III 


butler's  sermons 

It  was  not  an  accident  which  led  Butler  to  publish 
his  Sermons  before  the  Analogy.  The  main  positions 
in  the  Sermons  are  taken  for  granted  and  presupposed 
in  the  Analogy;  the  Sermons  furnish  the  necessary- 
groundwork  on  which  the  later  work  reposes.  And 
when  Butler  began  to  write  the  air  was,  as  already 
noticed,^  full  of  moral  controversies.  Clarke's  lectures 
on  "  The  Unchangeable  Obhgation  of  Natural  Eeligion, 
and  the  Truth  and  Certainty  of  the  Christian  Eevela- 
tion "  were  delivered  in  1705 ;  Shaftesbury's  writings 
appeared  between  1708  and  1711 ;  the  second  and  chief 
edition  of  MandeviUe's  Fable  of  the  Bees  in  1723.  The 
Sermons  themselves  represent  the  result  of  eight  years' 
meditation  and  work.  Butler  was  appointed  preacher 
at  the  Eolls  in  1718,  but  did  not  publish  them  till 
he  had  resigned  his  office  in  1726.  He  tells  us  at  the 
close  of  the  Preface  prefixed  to  the  second  edition  of 
the  Sermons  in  1729,  that  "  the  reader  is  not  to  look 
for  any  particular  reason  for  the  choice  of  the  gi-eatest 
part  of  these  discom-ses,  their  being  taken  from  amongst 
many  others,  preached  in  the  same  place  through  a 
course  of  eight  years,  being  in  great  measm-e  acci- 
dental."- But  as  it  is  obvious  that  in  the  selection 
of  them  Butler  cannot  but  have  been  guided  by  the 
consideration  which  of  them  appeared  to  him  the  most 

'  Chap.  I.  p.  12.  -  Sermons,  Preface,  §  39. 


BUTLEK'S  SERMONS 


89 


important,  or  seemed  best  adapted  to  meet  the  special 
needs  of  his  time,  we  may  take  the  choice  he  has 
made  as  a  sufficient  guide  to  the  topics  on  which  his 
thoughts  most  habitually  ran,  and  those  on  which  he 
considered  it  most  imperative  to  insist.  But  among 
them  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  he  attached  most 
importance  to  the  first  three,  on  Human  Nature.  To 
these  all  the  others  may,  as  he  himself  points  out,^  be 
regarded  either  as  supplementary  or  as  illustrative. 
This  being  so,  we  can  hardly  be  wrong  in  looking  to 
the  views  contained  in  them  as  furnishing  an  index  to 
what  Butler  regarded  as  the  most  fundamental  doctrines 
in  his  moral  system.  The  following,  then,  are  the  five 
points  which  in  the  sermons  on  Human  Nature  or  in 
the  volume  as  a  whole  are  specially  brought  out  and 
insisted  upon. 

1.  The  first  point  upon  which  he  dwells  is  the 
existence,  independence,  and  authority  of  disinterested 
affections  in  mankind  at  large.  This  furnishes  the 
subject  of  the  first  sermon  on  Human  Nature,  of  a 
great  part  of  the  two  sermons  on  Compassion,  of 
the  two  on  the  Love  of  our  Neighbour,  and  of  the 
one  on  Forgiveness  of  Injuries.  The  need  for  plain 
speaking  on  this  head  we  may  gather  from  the 
remarks  he  makes  at  the  beginning  of  the  first  Sermon 
on  the  Love  of  our  Neighbour.  Here  he  lays  it 
down  that  while  particular  ages  are  probably  dis- 
tinguished by  the  prevalence  of  certain  forms  of 
wickedness,  "we  may  take  it  as  very  much  the  dis- 
tinction of  the  present  to  profess  a  contracted  spirit, 
and  greater  regards  to  self-interest,  than  appears  to 
have  been  done  formerly."  ^  How  true  this  was,  the 
review  in  the  last  chapter  has,  I  hope,  made  sufficiently 
plain.  Now,  the  general  position  which  Butler  lays 
down  is  this — that  from  a  "review  and  comparison 
>  Preface,  §§  26,  38.  -  Sermon  XI.  §  1. 


90     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


of  the  nature  of  man  as  respecting  self  and  as  respect- 
ing society,  it  will  plainly  appear,  that  there  are  as 
real  and  the  same  kinds  of  indications  in  himian  nature, 
that  we  were  made  for  society  and  to  do  good  to  our 
fellow-creatures,  as  that  we  were  intended  to  take 
care  of  our  own  life  and  health  and  private  good ;  and 
that  the  same  objections  lie  against  one  of  these  asser- 
tions as  against  the  other."  ^  Whether  we  be  thus 
or  otherwise  constituted  is,  as  he  elsewhere  observes,  a 
mere  question  of  fact  or  natural  history,^  to  be  judged 
of,  Uke  any  other  matters  of  fact,  by  observation, 
experience,  and  testimony.  But  then,  these  all  go  to 
prove  the  undoubted  existence  in  us — first,  of  benevol- 
ence as  a  general  principle  of  action ;  and  secondly,  of 
those  more  particular  forms  of  it  which  are  signified 
by  such  names  as  love,  friendship,  compassion,  and 
paternal  and  filial  affection.  The  only  way  in  which 
an  attempt  had  been  made  to  escape  from  this 
plain  evidence  of  testimony  and  experience  was  that 
adopted  by  Hobbes,  who  tried  to  show  that  each  one 
of  these  supposed  unselfish  principles  is  really  a  form, 
more  or  less  disguised,  of  self-love,  i.e.  of  the  love 
of  power.  Yet  such  an  explanation,  Butler  contends, 
breaks  down  entirely  when  tested  by  the  evidence  of 
facts.  The  degree  in  which  we  show  compassion 
towards  one  object  or  another  by  no  means  coincides 
with  the  degree  in  which  such  a  display  ministers  to 
our  own  consciousness  of  power  or  self-importance. 
How,  again,  does  such  an  explanation  account  for  a 
man's  wishing  that  good  to  another  which  he  knows 
himself  unable  to  procui'e,  and  rejoicing  in  it  though  pro- 
cured by  a  third  person  ?  Would  not,  on  this  showing, 
benevolence  and  cruelty  be  one  in  essence,  since  both 
may  equally  gratify  our  sense  of  power ;  and  if  they 
are  merely  different  modes  of  the  exercise  of  power, 
'  Sermon  I.  §  3.  ^  Sermon  I.  §  4,  note. 


BUTLER'S  SERMONS 


91 


what  reason  should  we  have  for  distinguishing  between 
them,  or  preferring  the  one  to  the  other  ?  Nor,  again, 
can  pity  be  explained  away  as  a  form  of  self-love, 
or,  as  Hobbes  would  have  it,  nothing  more  than 
the  "  imagination  or  fiction  of  future  calamity  to  our- 
selves, proceeding  from  the  sense  (he  means  sight  or 
knowledge)  of  another  man's  calamity."  ^  Were  Hobbes's 
contention  true,  it  would  be  the  most  timorous  and 
anxious,  not  the  most  helpful,  who  would  be  most  pitiful 
and  therefore  most  admired ;  while,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
the  intensity  of  the  dread  of  like  calamity  to  ourselves, 
so  far  from  quickening,  seems  even  to  diminish  and  in 
extreme  cases  entirely  to  paralyse  our  sense  of  pity  and 
compassion.  Fear,  it  has  been  well  observed  by  another 
writer,  is  almost  always  cruel,  just  because  it  is  funda- 
mentally selfish. 

But  if  the  existence  of  those  feelings  of  goodwill 
and  benevolence  to  others  be  established  by  the  un- 
doubted testimony  of  experience,  by  observation  external 
and  internal,  and  by  ordinary  language,  and  cannot  be 
explained  away  by  any  supersubtle  analysis ;  must  it 
not  follow  that  the  existence  of  such  feelings  as  much 
shows  that  we  were  intended  by  nature  to  do  good 
to  our  fellow-men,  as  the  existence  of  impulses,  the 
gratification  of  which  results  in  private  good,  proves 
that  we  were  intended  to  consult  and  provide  for  our 
private  good  ?  It  may,  indeed,  be  urged  that  these 
impulses,  if  followed  heedlessly  and  excessively,  will 
lead  us  to  a  course  of  conduct  harmful  rather  than 
advantageous  to  the  community ;  but  exactly  the  same 
holds  good  with  respect  to  those  impulses  which  are 
supposed  to  be  connected  with  our  own  individual 
happiness ;  to  follow  these  contrary  to  the  dictates 
of  reason  and  conscience  is  at  least  as  injurious  to 
our  individual  well-being,  as  the  heedless  or  wrongful 
^  Sermon  "V.  §  1,  note. 


92     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


following  of  social  instincts  is  contrary  to  the  notion  of 
true  benevolence,  and  injurious  to  tlie  welfare  of  society 
at  large.^ 

The  thought,  thus  sketched  in  outline  in  the  First 
Sermon  on  Human  Nature,  is  followed  out  more 
at  length  and  in  more  detail  in  the  two  sermons  on 
Compassion  (Sermons  V.,  VI.).  In  these  Butler  shows 
— First,  that  compassion  is  a  fact,  and  a  prominent  and 
leading  fact,  in  human  nature;  and  that  the  effect 
of  its  presence  is  to  lead  men  in  many  cases  to  the 
relief  of  suffering,  or  at  anyrate  to  that  mitigation 
of  it  which  the  sense  that  our  sorrows  are  shared  by 
others,  and  that  we  are  not  left  to  bear  them  alone, 
affords.  Secondly,  that  though  reason  apart  from  com- 
passion might,  as  some  of  the  objectors  affirmed,  lead 
men  to  the  reHef  of  distress,  and  exhibition  of  fellow- 
feeliug  with  others,  yet  we  are  very  much  aided  in 
the  performance  of  these  kindly  offices  by  ha\"ing  iu 
us  a  natural  affection  to  which  distress  and  suffering 
make  their  appeal,  and  that  oui'  kiadly  duties  would 
be  more  often  neglected  than  at  present  were  this 
natural  feeling  of  compassion  absent.  Thirdly,  the 
far  more  widely  spread  prevalence  of  compassion 
than  of  a  fellow-feeling  in  one  another's  joys  and 
happiness  is,  further,  he  observes,  in  accordance  with 
the  circumstances  of  man's  life  on  earth,  in  which 
the  opportunities  we  have  of  inflicting  injury  and 
pain  upon  one  another  are  far  greater  than  any  we 
have  of  augmenting  one  another's  joys  and  happiness  ; 
and  the  occasions  we  have  for  reUeving  misery  and 
consoling  sorrow  are  more  numerous  and  more  exi- 
gent than  those  which  occur  for  sharing  each  other's 
dehghts.  Fourthly,  the  contention  that  we  should 
stifle  feelings  of  pity  and  compassion,  on  the  groimd 
that  the  indulgence  of  them  brings  pain  to  ourselves, 
1  Sermon  I.  §§  12,  13,  14. 


BUTLEK'S  SERMONS 


93 


is  a  base  form  of  selfishness,  and  a  wilful  ignoring  of 
the  lessons  which  the  very  constitution  of  our  nature 
is  intended  to  teach  us.  Lastly,  the  fact  that  nature, 
i.e.  the  arrangement  of  God,  has  implanted  in  us  a  special 
impulse  leading  us  to  relieve  and  mitigate  distress 
should  teach  us  that  the  reasonable  course  to  pursue 
in  our  own  lives  is  "  to  lower  our  notions  of  happiness 
and  enjoyment,  and  bring  tliem  down  to  the  reality 
of  things,  to  what  is  attainable,  to  what  the  frailty 
of  oui-  condition  will  admit  of,  which  for  any  continu- 
ance is  only  tranquillity,  ease,  and  moderate  satis- 
factions." ^ 

Now,  wliile  some  of  these  remarks  of  Butler  (the  last 
perhaps  particularly)seem  somewhat  far-fetched  and  fine 
drawn,  suggested  rather  by  his  own  timorous,  shrinking, 
and  despondent  disposition  than  by  the  truth  of  things, 
and  though  we  feel  throughout  his  pleadings  for  com- 
passion that  his  is  the  voice  of  one  crying  in  the  wilder- 
ness to  a  selfish,  unfeeling,  uncompassionate  age  and 
generation ;  yet  in  the  main  it  is  the  voice  of  nature 
which  he  makes  sound  in  our  ears ;  he  is  asserting  the 
claims  and  obligation  of  a  principle  which,  though  it  is 
easy  to  ignore  it  and  possible  to  stifle  it,  has  a  right  to 
be  listened  to.  Indeed,  the  obligatory  character  of  the 
claim  which  pity  and  compassion  make  upon  us  he 
seems  to  have  understated  and  underestimated  rather 
than  exaggerated.  It  is  not  merely  that  compassion  is 
one  among  a  number  of  competing  passions  and  emotions 
which,  as  all  of  them  present  and  appealing  to  us,  may 
each  of  them  put  in  a  claim  to  be  heard  and  attended  to 
in  turn  ;  rather,  it  is  an  emotion  the  prevalence  of  which, 
whether  in  ourselves  or  others,  we  approve  and  applaud, 
and  the  absence  or  neglect  of  which  we  condemn  and 
lament.  It  is  on  this  obligatoriness  of  the  feeling,  the 
high  place  which,  to  use  the  language  of  Dr.  Martineau, 

»  Sermon  VI.  §  12. 


94     BISHOP  BUTLER  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


conscience  assigns  it  among  the  competing  springs  of 
action,  —  it  is  on  this  far  more  than  on  the  argu- 
ment derived  from  final  causes,  or  on  the  effect  which 
the  habitual  gratification  of  the  emotion  may  have  in 
increasing  the  sum  of  human  happiness,  or  still  more  in 
mitigating  the  sum  of  human  misery,  that  the  true 
sanction  for  listening  to  its  promptings  really  depends. 
Butler,  I  think,  in  not  pointing  this  out  has  somewhat 
needlessly  weakened  his  case. 

But  then,  it  may  be  asked,  are  there  no  limits  to  this 
duty  of  compassion,  and  are  we  to  yield  ourselves 
simply,  on  every  occasion  which  calls  it  forth,  to  the 
promptings  of  this  feeling  ?  Certainly  there  are  limits ; 
nor  are  we  bound  always  to  listen  to  its  promptings. 
It  is  obvious,  as  Butler  points  out,  that  the  primary  end 
of  compassion  is  to  diminish  and  alleviate  misery.  But 
when  we  find  that  the  effect  of  gratifying  our  com- 
passion, in  this  or  that  particular  way  or  instance,  will 
be,  not  to  mitigate,  but  to  enhance  human  misery  as  a 
whole,  by  making  men,  for  example,  rush  more  easily 
into  conduct  which  will  entail  on  them  misery,  then  it 
is  obvious  that,  in  the  interests  of  a  higher  and  more 
genuine  compassion,  it  is  our  duty  to  curb  and  control 
the  narrower  and  more  specific.  Only,  we  are  bound 
in  this,  as  in  all  other  matters,  not  to  play  fast  and  loose 
with  ourselves,  or  to  make  imaginary,  and  possibly  even 
fictitious,  ill  effects  of  compassion  in  general  an  excuse 
for  neglecting  an  obvious  duty  in  this  or  that  particular 
case. 

A  second  limit  which  may  have  to  be  put  to  com- 
passion is  this.  The  relief  and  mitigation  of  misery  is 
not  the  highest  and  most  ultimate  end  at  which  human 
effort  can  aim;  that  is  rather  to  be  found  in  the 
edification  of  character,  our  own  or  others, — we  may  not, 
then,  so  exercise  our  compassion  that  it  shall  interfere 
with  this  supreme  end.    It  is  obvious,  for  instance,  how 


BUTLER'S  SERMONS 


95 


much  and  how  constantly  this  principle  has  to  be  taken 
into  account  in  dealing  with  the  education  of  children ; 
and  this  will  explain  the  limits  there  may  be  even  to 
the  compassion  of  God  Himself.  For  while  we  regard 
compassion  as  an  attribute  of  God, — and  certainly  every 
Christian  who  accepts  the  doctrine  of  the  Incarnation 
must  believe  in  God's  compassion, — yet  is  it  not  reason- 
able to  assume  that  limits  must  be  recognised  to  the 
possibility  of  God's  compassion  in  the  principle  now 
enunciated  ?  The  whole  teaching  of  Christianity  goes  to 
show  that  God's  compassion  cannot  be  of  such  a  kind, 
or  exercised  in  such  a  way,  that  it  shall  interfere  with 
what  we  believe  to  be  God's  ultimate  aim,  the  discipline 
and  edvication  of  the  individuals  composing  the  human 
race.  It  is  often,  as  the  author  of  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews  puts  it,  quoting  from  the  Book  of  Proverbs, 
that  those  "  whom  the  Lord  loveth  He  chasteneth,  and 
scourgeth  every  son  whom  he  receiveth.  It  is  for 
chastening  that  ye  endure;  God  dealeth  with  you  as 
with  sons ;  for  what  son  is  there  whom  his  father 
chasteneth  not  ?"  ^ 

Before  leaving  this  part  of  his  subject  Butler  finds 
himself  compelled  to  grapple  with  a  difficulty,  to  the 
consideration  of  which  he  devotes  two  sermons — namely. 
Sermon  VIII.,  on  llesentment,  and  IX.,  on  the  For- 
giveness of  Injuries.  The  difficulty  is  this  :  he  had  laid 
it  down  that  the  presence  in  us  of  unselfish  instincts  or 
feelings,  such  as  pity,  compassion,  and  friendliness,  is  a 
clear  sign  that  we  are  intended  to  promote  the  good  of 
others  as  well  as  our  own  good,  and  ought  to  be  accepted 
as  such.  But  if  this  be  so,  then  is  not  the  presence  in 
us  of  impulses  which  lead  us  directly  to  do  harm  to  our 
neighbour  equally  a  sign  that  we  are  intended  by  the 
Author  of  our  nature  to  do  such  harm  as  well  as  good  ? 
The  most  notable  impulses  which  lead  us  to  do  harm  to 

^  Hebrews  lii.  6,  7. 


96     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


others  are  resentment  and  revenge.  Ambition  and  the 
love  of  power,  which  might  be  considered,  and  indeed  have 
often  proved,  anti-social  affections,  Butler  assumes  to 
be  naturally  not  such,  since  they  are  more  usually  and 
certainly  gratified  by  doing  good  than  by  doing  harm  to 
our  fellow-men ;  but  in  the  case  of  resentment  and 
revenge  no  similar  plea  can  be  urged.  The  difficulty 
will,  however,  be  met  if  we  look  a  little  more  attentively 
into  the  true  character  and  bearing  of  these  two  passions. 
Eesentment,  it  is  to  be  observed,  is  of  two  kinds,  hasty 
and  sudden, and  settled  and  deliberate.^  The  first  of  these, 
which  is  called  "  anger,"  or  in  a  special  sense  "  passion," 
arises  at  the  infliction  on  us  of  any  hurt  or  pain,  whether 
the  hm't  be  intended  or  not ;  it  is  often  purely  instinctive. 
Anger  flames  up  if  any  one  treads  on  our  toe,  or  if  we 
receive  any  sudden  blow.  "  The  reason  and  end  for 
which  man  was  made  thus  liable  to  this  passion  is  that 
he  might  be  better  qualified  to  prevent,  and  likewise 
(or  perhaps  chiefly)  to  resist  and  defeat,  sudden  force, 
violence  and  opposition,  considered  merely  as  such,  and 
without  regard  to  the  fault  or  demerit  of  him  who  is  the 
author  of  them.  .  .  .  There  are  plainly  cases — and  in  the 
uncultivated  parts  of  the  world,  and  when  regular  govern- 
ments are  not  formed,  they  frequently  happen — in  which 
there  is  no  time  for  consideration,  and  yet  to  be  passive 
is  certain  destruction ;  in  which  sudden  resistance  is 
the  only  security."  ^  The  final  cause,  then,  of  this  sudden 
anger  is  self-preservation  and  self-defence,  the  warding 
off  from  ourselves  in  moments  of  danger  whatever 
threatens  our  life  or  security. 

But  there  is  another  kind  of  resentment,  to  which 
Butler  gives  the  name  of  deliberate  anger,which  is  excited 
not  by  sudden  hurt  but  by  injury,  whether  real  or 
imaginary.  The  injmy  is  not  necessarily  injury  to  our- 
selves ;  for  the  feeling  of  resentment  may  be  excited  by 

I  Sermon  VIII.  §  5.  -  Ihid.  §  7. 


BUTLER'S  SERMONS 


97 


injury  done  to  others  as  well  as  to  ourselves,  particularly 
to  those  we  love  and  care  for ;  and  in  some  cases  and  in  a 
less  degree  by  the  perusal  of  a  story  of  a  purely  imaginary 
wrong  done.  Of  course,  when  the  injury  is  done  to  our- 
selves, or  to  those  near  us  whom  we  identify  with  our- 
selves, our  resentment  is  apt  to  be  more  intense  and 
acute ;  inasmuch  as  we  cannot  help  being  more  directly 
interested  in  that  which  immediately  concerns  om'selves 
than  in  that  which  concerns  others  ;  but  in  spite  of  this, 
the  fact  that  resentment  can  be  excited  by  wrongs  done 
to  strangers,  and  even  by  imaginary  wrongs,  is  a  proof 
that  the  proper  object  of  resentment  is  hurt  or  injury  in 
general ;  and  so  that  its  final  cause  is  the  punishment 
of  wrong  and  the  promotion  of  justice.  But  if  this  is 
so,  then  it  is  shown  to  be  in  its  proper  nature  and  when 
rightly  directed  not  an  anti-social  but  a  social  passion ; 
as  Butler  puts  it :  "  The  natm'al  object  or  occasion  of 
settled  resentment  being  injury,  as  distinct  from  pain  or 
loss ;  it  is  easy  to  see  that  to  prevent  and  remedy  such 
injury,  and  the  miseries  arising  from  it,  is  the  end  for 
which  this  passion  was  implanted  in  man.  It  is  to  be 
considered  as  a  weapon,  put  into  our  hands  by  nature, 
against  injury,  injustice,  and  cruelty."  ^  But  this  weapon 
is,  where  we  ourselves  are  affected,  particularly  apt  to 
be  turned  to  wrong  account,  and  requires,  therefore, 
to  be  used  with  the  greatest  caution.  While  sudden 
anger  is  apt  to  degenerate  into  passion  or  peevishness, 
in  settled  anger  a  man  is  apt  to  imagine  injuries, 
to  exaggerate  them,  to  refuse  to  listen  to  reasonable 
justification  or  excuse,  to  hug  his  wrath  and  insist  on 
vengeance  even  when  pardon  has  been  sought  or  repara- 
tion offered.  Still,  in  spite  of  these  excesses,  resent- 
ment remains,  when  properly  used,  a  moral  impulse, 
lying  at  the  very  root  of  one  kind  of  justice,  and  acting 
as  an  inward  witness  against  vice. 

1  Sermon  VIII.  §  11. 

7 


98     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


In  the  sermon  on  the  Forgiveness  of  Injuries,  Butler 
touches  on  an  even  more  diflScult  question,  namely ,what 
are  the  proper  limits  to  resentment  ?  How  far,  if  at  aU, 
is  it  justifiable  to  nourish  revenge  ?  The  question  was, 
we  must  remember,  both  more  practical  and  more 
difficult  to  answer  in  an  age  when  readiness  to  avenge 
any  insult,  real  or  imaginary,  was  supposed  to  be  a  part 
of  manliness ;  and  to  be  willing  to  fight  a  duel  on  any,  the 
most  trifling,  occasion  the  duty  of  a  gentleman;  and 
when  to  speak  even  of  the  possibility  of  the  forgiveness 
of  injuries  was  stigmatised  as  mere  "  rant."  ^  But  I  do 
not  think  that  Butler's  treatment  of  the  subject  can  be 
regarded  as  altogether  satisfactory.  An  overreadiness 
to  take  vengeance  is  an  evil  which  seems  to  need  a  more 
drastic  remedy  than  any  that  he  propounds.  It  is  no 
doubt  true  that  revenge,  if  freely  indulged  in,  tends,  as  he 
points  out,  directly  to  propagate  itself,  till  it  renders 
the  very  existence  of  civilised  society  almost  impossible  ; 
and  that  so  far  from  acting,  when  freely  indulged  in,  as 
a  deterrent  from  vice,  it  becomes  itself  a  vice  of  a  very 
dangerous  and  tyrannical  kind :  but  to  attempt  to  induce 
men  to  forego  vengeance  by  an  appeal  to  the  kindhness 
and  goodwill  they  owe  to  men  in  general,  and  to  assure 
them  they  are  probably  exaggerating  the  injmy  they 
are  so  anxious  to  avenge,  seems  but  a  weak  remedy  to 
apply  to  so  dangerous  a  disease ;  one  likely  to  be  in- 
effectual in  securing  its  object.  Butler  is  on  firmer 
ground  when  he  presses  home  the  need  we  aU  have  to 
be  ourselves  forgiven,  as  a  reason  why  we  should  forgive 
others;  and  he  might  have  appealed  with  more  force  than 
he  does  to  the  admiration  which  all  men  feel  for  a  forgive- 
ness exercised,  not  weakly  or  insincerely,  but  genuinely 
and  nobly,  to  a  repentant  and  contrite  enemy.  Indeed, 
the  admiration  would  be  even  greater  and  more  out- 
spoken than  it  is,  were  it  not  that  men  are  too  apt  to 

'  Sermon  IX.  §  12. 


BUTLEE'S  SERMONS 


99 


imagine  (often  not  without  reason)  that  the  forgiveness 
of  injuries  proceeds  from  weakness  or  want  of  courage 
and  spirit,  not  from  genuine  nobility  ;  or,  on  the  other 
hand,  that  not  sufficient  care  has  been  taken  to  assure 
oneself  of  the  reality  of  the  repentance  and  regret. 
Probably  the  forgiveness  of  injuries  and  the  mitigation 
of  revenge  are  points  on  which  Christian  preaching, 
and  specially  our  Lord's  own  direct  teaching,  have 
more  modified  prevailing  sentiment  than  on  any  other 
subject;  but  they  have  done  so  because  they  were 
backed  by  the  whole  power  of  His  example,  and  can 
appeal  to  the  motive  which  the  forgiveness  exercised  by 
Him  towards  all  penitent  sinners  inspires ; — and  with 
these  helps,  it  cannot  be  yet  said  that  Christianity  has 
succeeded  even  among  professing  Christians  in  extracting 
from  revenge  that  selfish  character  which  makes  it  at 
once  an  anti-social  force  and  a  sin  against  God. 

But  looking  broadly  at  the  whole  question  of  which 
this  forms  a  part,  we  may  say  that  Butler  has  succeeded 
in  making  good  both  the  points  which  he  started  to 
maintain.  He  has  shown  that  if  we  are  to  take  nature 
as  we  know  it  for  our  guide,  then  we  shall  find  a  number 
of  instincts,  differently  developed  indeed  in  different 
men,  in  different  ages  and  countries,  which  lead  us  to 
promote  the  good  of  society  no  less  than  our  own  good  ; 
and  secondly,  that  those  instincts  which,  like  resent- 
ment and  revenge,  appear  at  the  first  blush  anti-social, 
turn  out,  if  we  regard  them  more  carefully,  to  play  a 
useful,  we  may  almost  say  an  indispenable,  part  in  human 
society ;  and  that  it  is  their  excesses  or  perversions,  not 
the  instincts  themselves,  which  are  really  at  fault  in 
those  instances  in  which  they  show  themselves  de- 
structive or  dangerous.  Where  Butler  might  have 
strengthened  his  doctrine  seems  to  be  in  this  point — 
that  the  real  sanction  which  induces  men  to  follow 
these  instincts  lies  not  so  much  (as  he  seems  to  place  it) 


100    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


in  their  occurrence  as  actual  parts  of,  or  facts  in,  our 
nature,  but  in  the  approval  they  receive,  when  wisely- 
followed,  from  an  enlightened  moral  judgment,  and  the 
disapprobation  they  encounter  from  the  same,  when 
perverted  or  exaggerated.  Nor  need  we  be  alarmed  if 
it  is  said  that  Butler's  doctrine  is  essentially  unhis- 
torical,  and  that  he  assumes  a  fixity  and  permanence 
in  the  main  features  of  human  nature  which  does  not 
exist;  for,  in  the  first  place,  there  is  a  much  greater 
fixity  and  permanence  in  human  nature  than  is  for 
controversial  purposes  sometimes  assumed  to  be  the 
case,  so  that  its  main  lines  can  be  sufficiently  ascertained; 
and  next,  the  general  direction  in  which  human  nature 
moves — which  is  tolerably  obvious — may  be  taken,  if  it 
is  wished,  as  a  substitute  for  that  fixed  standard  of 
human  nature  which  Butler  postulates. 

2.  Butler's  second  point  is  that  there  is  no  more 
special  opposition  or  contrariety  between  benevolence 
and  self-love  than  between  self-love  and  various  other 
principles  or  affections  in  our  nature.  The  principle  is 
stated  in  general  terms  in  the  Preface  ^  and  in  Sermons 
1.2  and  III. ;  ^  and  is  worked  out  more  at  length  in  the 
two  sermons  on  the  Love  of  our  Neighbour  (Sermons 
XI.,  XII.).  In  order  to  prove  his  position  he  draws  a 
distinction,  on  which  he  often  insists,  between  self-love 
on  the  one  hand,  and  our  various  particular  affections, 
propensious,  and  passions  on  the  other.  The  first  of 
these  is  a  "  cool "  or  "  reasonable  "'  principle,  in  some 
sense  even  a  "  superior  "  principle,  in  our  nature,  having 
for  its  object  our  own  indi^'idual  well-being  or  happi- 
ness, considered  as  an  end ;  the  latter  are  directed  to, 
and  find  their  gratification  in,  certain  definite  external 
objects,  in  which  when  attained  they  rest,  and  the 
attainment  of  which  is  a  source  of  pleasure;  though 
the  resulting  pleasure  need  not  be,  and  often  is  not, 

1  §§  29,  30,  31.  -  §§  11,  12.  '  §§  7,  8. 


BUTLER'S  SERMONS 


101 


directly  contemplated  or  aimed  at  when  the  object 
is  sought.  It  is  often,  in  other  words,  the  appetite 
itself,  not  the  pleasure  which  results  from  its  gratifi- 
cation, which  prompts  immediately  the  action  done. 
Butler  takes  hunger,  resentment,  or  revenge  as  in- 
stances of  such  special  affections.  Hunger  is,  properly 
speaking,  a  desire  for  food,  and  is  satisfied  when  it  ob- 
tains the  food  which  is  adequate  and  appropriate  to 
satisfy  the  craving  ;  resentment  and  revenge  are  desires 
to  inflict  upon  those  who  have  injured  us  hurts  com- 
mensurate with  or  greater  than  the  wrongs  we  believe 
ourselves  to  have  received.  We  do  not,  in  many 
instances,  in  satisfying  our  hunger  or  gratifying  our 
revenge,  think  of  the  pleasure  which  will  result  from 
that  satisfaction  or  gratification ;  we  simply  are  set  on 
action  by  the  uneasiness  or  feeling  or  passion  itself, 
quite  apart  from  any  ulterior  motive.  But  it  is  obvious 
that  as,  in  the  first  place,  the  possibility  of  our  happi- 
ness and  enjoyment  depends  on  our  having  such  in- 
stincts, affections,  and  propensions,  in  the  gratification 
of  which,  imder  certain  circumstances,  we  find  pleasure 
and  delight ;  so,  in  the  second  place,  it  may  well  happen 
that  the  gratification  of  these  instincts  may  be  carried 
out  in  such  a  way  as  to  interfere  with  and,  in  extreme 
cases,  completely  ruin  our  happiness  and  well-being. 
Who  has  not  seen  a  hfe  sacrificed  to  the  indulgence 
of  resentment  or  the  gratification  of  revenge,  or  even  to 
an  intense  desire  for  wealth  or  reputation  or  fame  ? 
Did  Othello  consult  well  his  own  interests  ?  Was  he 
actuated  by  reasonable  self-love  ?  Or  was  Charles  xii. 
of  Sweden,  or  is  the  rake  who  has  misspent  and  gambled 
away  his  fortune,  actuated  by  reasonable  self-love  ? 
It  is  clear,  then,  that  as,  on  the  one  hand,  reason- 
able self-love,  and  the  care  for  our  happiness  as  a 
whole,  is  mixed  up  with  and  depends  upon  the  gratifi- 
cation of  our  different  passions,  desires,  and  affections ; 


102    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WEITINGS 


so,  on  the  other,  these  same  desii-es,  at  many  points  and 
in  many  ways,  come  into  conflict  with  and  are  opposed 
to  cool  and  reasonable  self-love  and  the  claims  of  self- 
interest  ;  and  when  it  is  asserted  that  the  instincts  of 
benevolence,  goodwill,  and  compassion  conflict  with  our 
interests,  we  are  asserting  no  more  about  these  instincts 
than  may  be  asserted  with  perfect  truth  about  all  our 
special  passions,  afiections,  and  propensions  of  every 
kind.  "  Thus  it  appears  that  there  is  no  peculiar  con- 
trariety between  self-love  and  benevolence ;  no  greater 
competition  between  these  than  between  any  other 
particular  affections  and  self-love."  ^ 

The  gratification  of  any  passion,  and  of  benevolence 
among  the  rest,  may  conflict  with  the  claims  of  self- 
love,  but  they  need  not  do  so,  and  indeed  it  may 
very  well  happen  that  our  happiness  may  largely  de- 
pend on  the  gratification  of  these  different  instincts. 
But  if  this  is  so,  how,  we  may  ask  ourselves,  has  it 
come  about  that  such  special  contrariety  between  bene- 
volence and  self-love  has  so  often  been  supposed  to 
exist  ?  "  The  general  mistake,"  Butler  answers,  "  that 
there  is  some  greater  inconsistence  between  endeavour- 
ing to  promote  the  good  of  another  and  self-interest, 
than  between  self-interest  and  pursuing  anything  else, 
seems,  as  hath  already  been  hinted,  to  arise  from  our 
notions  of  property,  and  to  be  carried  on  by  this 
property's  being  supposed  to  be  itself  our  happiness 
or  good.  People  are  so  very  much  taken  up  with  this 
one  subject  that  they  seem  from  it  to  have  formed  a 
general  way  of  thinking,  which  they  apply  to  other 
things  that  they  have  nothing  to  do  with."^  He 
means  that  people  too  hastily  infer  that,  because 
we  cannot  give  away  our  property  to  others  without 
diminishing  that  which  we  possess  ourselves,  therefore 
we  cannot  expend  our  affection  or  goodwill  on  others 

1  Sermon  XI.  §  11.  =  Sermon  XI.  §  19. 


BUTLEK'S  SERMONS 


103 


without  leaving  ourselves  the  poorer  by  that  which  we 
give.  Of  course,  stated  in  this  form,  the  fallacy  be- 
comes at  once  obvious.  Indeed,  as  he  goes  on  to  show, 
the  gratification  of  benevolence,  compassion,  and  even 
of  generosity,  so  far  from  being  in  any  sense  specially 
inimical  to  self-love,  is  far  less  opposed  to  it,  both  in 
itself  and  in  the  course  of  conduct  to  which  it  prompts, 
than  is  that  of  most  of  the  special  affections  with  which 
it  might  be  brought  into  comparison — ambition,  for 
instance,  or  the  love  of  reputation ;  for  not  only  are 
benevolence  and  goodwill  accompanied  by  much  fewer 
dissatisfactions  and  disappointments  and  uneasy  and 
jealous  pains  than  are  pride  and  ambition,  but  also 
benevolence  and  the  sense  of  doing  good  to  others, 
besides  being  a  very  direct  source  of  innocent  and  even 
intense  pleasure  in  themselves,  are  specially  favourable 
to  that  equable  and  expansive  temper  of  mind,  that 
self-satisfaction,  which,  if  not  identical  with  happiness, 
makes  undoubtedly  no  small  factor  in  it.  All  experi- 
ence and  an  almost  universal  testimony  are  in  favour 
of  such  a  view.  To  this  consideration  those  who  believe 
in  a  benevolent  and  omnipotent  God  may  add,  "  that 
they  consider  themselves  as  acting  in  the  view  of  an 
Infinite  Being,  who  is  in  a  much  higher  sense  the  object 
of  reverence  and  love  than  all  the  world  besides ;  and 
therefore  they  could  have  no  more  enjoyment  from  a 
wicked  action  done  under  His  eye  than  the  person  to 
whom  they  are  making  their  apology  ^  could,  if  all  man- 
kind were  the  spectators  of  it ;  and  that  the  satisfaction 
of  approving  themselves  to  His  unerring  judgment,  to 
whom  they  thus  refer  all  their  actions,  is  a  more  con- 
tinued, settled  satisfaction  than  any  this  world  can 
afford;  as  also,  that  they  have,  no  less  than  others, 
a  mind  free  and  open  to  all  the  common,  innocent 
gratifications  of  it,  such  as  they  are.     And  if  we 

1  I.e.  those  who  preach  selfishness. 


104    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


go  no  further,  does  there  appear  any  absurdity  in 
this  ? "  1 

In  the  second  Sermon  on  the  Love  of  our  Neigh- 
bour, Butler  attempts  more  precisely  to  determine  the 
place  which  benevolence  and  self-love  should  respect- 
ively hold  in  the  good  man's  character.  In  the  first 
place,  he  points  out  that  the  love  of  our  neighbour  does 
not  mean  so  much  a  general  benevolence  towards  all 
mankind  (which  is  only  too  apt  to  assume  a  somewhat 
watery  cliaracter),  as  the  recognition  of  those  special 
duties  and  special  relations  which  have  reference  to 
"  that  part  of  the  universe,  that  part  of  mankind, 
that  part  of  our  country,  which  comes  under  our 
immediate  notice,  acquaintance,  and  influence,  and 
with  which  we  have  to  do."  ^  Secondly,  that  there 
is  no  possible  danger  or  hkehhood  of  men  being 
so  carried  away  by  benevolence  and  goodwill  to 
others  as  to  be  neglectful  of  their  own  interests,  or 
indifferent  to  that  happiness  which  must  always  remain 
a  man's  own  first  concern.  And  thirdly,  when  the 
apostle  says  that  every  other  commandment  is  briefly 
comprehended  in  this  saying,  namely,  "  Thou  shalt  love 
thy  neighbour  as  thyself"^  (which  Butler  regards  as 
equivalent  to  the  assertion  that  to  love  our  neighbour 
as  ourselves  includes  all  other  virtues),  what  is  meant 
is — that  a  true  love  of  our  neighbour  would  certainly 
dictate  those  virtiies  of  temperance,  sobriety,  and 
moderation  in  sensual  pleasui-es  which  we  are  apt  to 
regard  as  in  a  peculiar  sense  personal  and  self-re- 
garding, and  that  thus  love  of  oiu-  neighbour  becomes 
in  a  way  identical  with  love  of  ourselves.  Finally, 
benevolence  runs  up  into  piety.  For,  in  so  far  as  we 
believe  God  to  be  good,  so  far,  when  we  are  doing  good 
to  others,  shall  we  feel  ourselves  to  be  fellow-workers 
with  God,  and  we  shall  love  in  Him  the  perfect 

1  Sermon  XI.  §  14.        -  Sermon  XII.  §  2.  = 


BUTLER'S  SERMONS 


105 


exemplification  of  a  principle  which  we  approve  in 
ourselves  and  admire  as  we  see  it  exercised  by  our 
fellow-men.  "  Thus  morality  and  religion,  virtue  and 
piety,  will  at  last  necessarily  coincide,  run  up  into  one 
and  the  same  point,  and  love  will  be  in  all  senses 
the  end  of  the  commandment."^  The  sermon  passes 
at  its  conclusion  into  this  beautiful  prayer,  which, 
as  it  shows  Butler  at  his  best,  I  shall  not  hesitate 
to  quote.  "  0  Almighty  God,  inspire  us  with  this 
divine  principle;  kill  in  us  all  the  seeds  of  envy  and 
ill-will;  and  help  us,  by  cultivating  within  ourselves 
the  love  of  our  neighbour,  to  improve  in  the  love  of 
Thee.  Thou  hast  placed  us  in  various  Idudreds,  friend- 
ships, and  relations  as  the  school  of  discipline  for  our 
affections ;  help  us  by  the  due  exercise  of  them  to  improve 
to  perfection,  till  all  partial  affection  be  lost  in  that  entire 
universal  one,  and  Thou,  0  God,  shalt  be  all  in  all."  ^ 

The  identification  or  reconcilement  of  the  claims  of 
self-love  and  benevolence,  of  love  of  self  and  love  of 
others,  has  ever  proved  a  standing  difficulty  in  moral 
philosophy.  Plato  and  Aristotle  both  of  them  tried 
their  hand  on  the  problem.  Plato  said  boldly  that  self- 
love  can  only  realise  its  end  through  love  of  others ; 
almost  in  the  words  of  our  Lord  Himself  he  held  that 
ho  who  would  save  his  life  must  lose  it,  that  it  is 
only  so  far  as  we  fulfil  all  the  duties  that  are  in- 
cumbent upon  us  as  citizens  of  the  state,  that  we  fully 
reaUse  ourselves,  or  can  grow  to  our  full  moral  stature. 
Aristotle  said  much  the  same  in  different  language. 
He  found  the  reconciliation  of  the  two  in  that  the 
highest  form  of  self-love  prescribed  that  we  should  seek 
the  beautiful ;  and  the  highest  kind  of  moral  beauty  con- 
sisted in  seeking  to  do  good  deeds  to  our  fellow-citizens, 
and  even  in  being  the  occasion  of  others  doing  good 
deeds  ratlier  than  in  doing  them  ourselves.^    In  perus- 

1  Sermon  XII.  §  23.        =  Sermon  XII.  §  24.        ^JV.  m.  ix.  8. 


106    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


ing  Butler's  attempted  reconcilement  we  seem  at  first 
to  be  standing  on  a  lower  level  than  had  been  reached 
by  his  predecessors.  To  attempt  to  defend  unselfish- 
ness on  selfish  grounds  seems  a  fruitless  and  unprofit- 
able task ;  and  to  attempt  to  persuade  people  to  be  care- 
ful of  the  happiness  of  others,  for  the  reason  that  by- 
doing  so  they  will  best  care  for  their  own,  seems  at  once 
paradoxical  and  ineffective.  But  then,  in  the  first 
place,  we  must  remember  that  Butler  is  seeking  to  get 
a  hearing  for  public  spirit  and  benevolence  by  making, 
as  he  says,i  "  all  possible  concessions  to  the  favourite 
passion,  which  hath  so  much  allowed  to  it,  and  whose 
cause  is  so  miiversally  pleaded ;  it  shall  be  treated  with 
the  utmost  tenderness  and  concern  for  its  interests." 
And,  in  the  second  place,  we  must  observe  that  he  is  ad- 
dressing himself  to  an  age  which  he  genuinely  believed 
to  be  incapable  of  being  appealed  to  by  any  higher 
motive,  an  age  in  which  it  is  necessary  to  insist  upon 
such  considerations,  in  order  "  to  ob\date  that  scorn 
which  one  sees  rising  upon  the  faces  of  people  who  are 
said  to  know  the  world,  when  mention  is  made  of  a 
disinterested,  generous,  or  pubhc-spirited  action."  ^ 
Whether  even  under  these  circumstances  he  adopted 
the  more  excellent  way  in  lowering  his  appeal  to  the 
level  of  those  for  whom  he  wrote,  and  to  whom  he 
preached,  it  is  not  for  us  to  decide ;  certain  it  is  that 
he  hunself  was  actuated  by  far  nobler  principles  and 
far  different  motives,  and  these  he  ultimately  never 
neglects  or  ignores,  though  he  may  allow  them  for  a 
time  to  drop  out  of  sight. 

3.  We  come  next  to  that  which  is  the  very  pith  and 
core  of  Butler's  doctrine,  and  that  with  which  his  name 
is  most  intimately  associated — his  account  of  "  reflec- 
tion "  or  "  conscience."  This  forms  the  subject  of  the 
larger  part  of  the  Preface,  and  of  Sermons  II.  and  III. 

'  Sermon  XI.  §  2.  2  Preface,  §  32. 


BUTLER'S  SERMONS 


107 


Adopting  language  introduced  originally  by  the  Stoics, 
and  finding  some  sanction  in  the  writings  of  St.  Paul, 
which  had  become  an  ordinary  mode  of  expression 
in  his  own  day,  he  makes  virtue  consist  in  "  follow- 
ing nature,"  and  vice  in  a  deviation  from  it.  But  then, 
what  do  we,  or  rather,  what  ought  we,  to  mean  by 
this  phrase  "  following  nature "  ?  There  arc  three 
senses  in  which  the  term  nature  is  commonly  employed. 
(1)  We  speak  of  any  aflection,  passion,  or  propension  as 
"  natural "  which  is  foimd  to  prevail  universally,  or 
very  widely,  among  mankind.  "  Thus  the  passion  of 
anger,  and  the  affection  of  parents  to  their  children, 
would  be  called  equally  '  natural.'  "  But  "  as  the  same 
person  hath  often  contrary  principles,  which  at  the 
same  time  di-aw  contrary  ways,  he  may  by  the  same 
action  both  follow  and  contradict  his  nature  in  this 
sense  of  the  word ;  he  may  follow  one  passion  and  con- 
tradict another."^  If  we  use,  therefore,  the  terms 
"  nature  "  and  "  natural "  in  this  sense,  the  following 
of  nature  can  fui-nish  no  guide  at  all  in  conduct. 
But  (2)  we  may  employ  the  word  to  denote  that  passion 
or  principle  which  in  a  given  instance  may  happen  to  be 
the  strongest ;  and  since  our  evil  passions  are  often  the 
strongest,  in  this  sense  we  may  speak  of  vice  as  being 
natural  and  of  men  as  being  naturally  vicious.  It  is  in 
this  sense  that  St.  Paul  uses  the  word  when  he  speaks 
of  the  Gentiles  as  being  "  by  nature "  the  children  of 
wrath.2  But  (3)  what  we  most  properly  mean  by  nature 
is  "  the  constitution  of  man  as  a  whole  "  ;  and  in  framing 
the  idea  of  what  this  constitution  is,  it  is  impossible  to 
leave  out  of  account  the  relation  in  which  the  different 
parts  of  it  stand  to  one  another.  What  this  relation  is, 
is,  like  other  matters  of  fact,  to  be  determined  by 
observation  and  experience.  But  it  is  obvious  that 
one,  and  perhaps  the  principal,  of  these  relations  is  that 

'  Sermon  II.  §  7.  ^Sermon  II.  §  8. 


108    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


some  of  the  principles  entering  into  or  composing  oui- 
nature  are  superior,  others  inferior ;  some  are  higher, 
others  lower.  To  take  one  instance,  self-love  is  clearly 
a  superior  principle  to  any  single  passion  or  propension. 
To  run  counter  to  the  dictates  of  self-love  at  the  bidding 
of  any  single  lower  passion  or  impulse,  we  should  all 
feel  to  be  an  act  disproportionate  to  man's  nature,  and 
so  properly  to  be  described  as  "  unnatural " ;  while  to 
forego  the  gratification  of  our  appetites  at  the  bidding 
of  self-love  would  appear,  ou  the  contrary,  perfectly 
natural  and  appropriate.^  Now,  if  self-love  be  thus  a 
superior  principle  in  man's  nature,  superior  to  all  the 
particular  appetites,  passions,  and  affections  by  which, 
from  time  to  time,  he  is  moved  and  swayed,  much  more 
does  this  notion  of  ultimate  superiority  and  authority 
attach  to  the  principle  of  reflection  or  conscience. 
"  This  principle  distinguishes  between  the  internal 
principles  of  man's  heart  as  well  as  his  external  actions ; 
it  passes  judgment  upon  himself  and  them ;  it  pro- 
nounces determinately  some  actions  to  be,  in  them- 
selves, just,  right,  good ;  others  to  be  in  themselves  evil, 
wrong,  unjust ;  without  being  consulted,  without  being 
advised  with,  it  magisterially  exerts  itself,  and  approves  l 
or  condemns  him,  the  doer  of  them,  accordingly ;  and  if 
not  forcibly  stopped,  it  naturally  and  always,  of  course, 
goes  on  to  anticipate  a  higher  and  more  effectual  sen- 
tence, which  shall  liereafter  second  and  affirm  its  own."  - 
But  further,  we  observe  that  these  attributes  of  pre- 
rogative and  authority  form  part  of  our  very  notion  of 
the  faculty  itself;  they  are  inseparable  from  it.  The 
faculty  is  "  in  kind  and  in  nature  supreme  over  aU  others, 
and  bears  its  own  authority  of  being  so."  ^  "  When 
passion  or  appetite  prevail  we  recognise  it  as  mere 
'  usurpation ' ;  conscience  remains  in  nature  and  kind 
their  superior ;  and  every  instance  of  the  prevalence  of 

1  Sermon  II.  §  15.         -  Sermon  II.  §  10.         ^  Sermon  II.  §  11. 


BUTLER'S  SEEMONS 


109 


passion  we  regard  as  an  instance  of  breaking  in  upon, 
or  violation  of,  the  constitution  of  man."  "  Thus  that 
principle,  by  which  we  survey,  and  either  affirm  or  dis- 
approve our  own  heart,  temper,  and  actions  is  not  only 
to  be  considered  as  what  is  in  turn  to  have  some 
influence,  which  may  be  said  of  every  passion,  of  the 
lowest  appetites ;  but  likewise  as  being  superior,  as  from 
its  very  nature  manifestly  claiming  superiority  over  all 
others,  insomuch  that  you  cannot  form  a  notion  of  this 
faculty,  conscience,  without  taking  in  judgment,  direc- 
tion, superintendency.  This  is  a  constituent  part  of 
the  idea,  that  is,  of  the  faculty  itself ;  and  to  preside  and 
govern,  from  the  very  economy  and  constitution  of 
man,  belongs  to  it.  Had  it  strength,  as  it  has  right ; 
had  it  power,  as  it  has  manifest  authority ;  it  would 
absolutely  govern  the  world."  ^  The  general  conclusion 
which  Butler  draws  is  as  follows :  "  From  all  these 
things  put  together  nothing  can  be  more  evident  than 
that,  exclusive  of  revelation,  man  cannot  be  considered 
as  a  creature  left  by  his  Maker  to  act  at  random,  and 
live  at  large  up  to  the  extent  of  his  natural  power,  as 
passion,  humour,  wilfulness  happen  to  carry  him,  which 
is  the  condition  brute  creatures  are  in ;  but  that  from 
his  make,  constitution,  or  nature  he  is  in  the  strictest 
and  most  proper  sense  a  law  to  himself.  He  hath  the 
rule  of  right  within ;  what  is  wanting  is  only  that  he 
honestly  attend  to  it."  ^ 

But  granted  conscience  or  reflection  holds,  and  has  a 
right  to  hold,  the  supreme  and  authoritative  position  in 
human  nature  which  Butler  here  assigns  to  it,  we  have 
still  to  ask  ourselves  the  question — Can  we  accept  it  as 
an  infalUble  or  even  as  a  satisfactory  guide  ?  Butler's 
answer  is  "  Yes."  "  The  inquiries  which  have  been  made 
by  men  of  leisure  after  some  general  rule,  the  con- 
formity to  or  disagreement  from  which  should  denom- 

1  Sermou  II.  §  19.  ^  Sermon  III.  §  3. 


110    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


inate  our  actions  good  or  evil,  are  in  many  respects  of 
great  service.  Yet  let  any  plain,  honest  man,  before  he 
engages  in  any  course  of  action,  ask  himself,  '  Is  this  I 
am  going  about  right,  or  is  it  wrong  ?  Is  it  good,  or  is  it 
evil  ? '  I  do  not  in  the  least  doubt  but  that  this  question 
would  be  answered  agreeably  to  truth  and  virtue  by 
almost  any  fair  man,  in  almost  any  circumstance."  ^ 

Two  exceptions,  indeed,  he  recognises :  conscience 
is  apt  to  be  led  astray  by  superstition  in  some  in- 
stances, and  by  self-partiality  in  others.  Of  the  for- 
mer misleading  influence  he  does  not  speak  at  any 
length  ;  he  probably  thought  that  enough,  and  perhaps 
more  than  enough,  had  been  made  of  it  by  his  contem- 
poraries. Of  self-partiality  he  treats  at  large  in  the 
sermon  on  the  character  of  Balaam,^  and  in  that  on  Self- 
deceit.^  He  observes,  in  the  first  place,  what  a  common 
defect  this  is, — so  common  that  there  are  very  few  who 
wholly  escape  from  it.  It  takes  many  different  forms 
— blinding  us  sometimes  as  to  our  true  character  as  a 
whole,  but  more  often  misleading  us  in  the  case  of  some 
particular  act,  some  particular  course  of  conduct.  Thus, 
through  partiality,  we  exempt  our  own  acts  from  the 
categories  of  our  moral  judgment,  and  perpetually 
represent  our  conduct  to  be  something  diffei-ent  from 
what,  did  we  see  it  in  another,  we  should  at  once  per- 
ceive it  to  be.  And  not  only  does  this  self-partiality 
bUnd  us  to  the  true  nature  of  our  own  character  and 
conduct,  it  sometimes  even  leads  us  to  condone  vices  in 
others  when  they  are  of  a  kind  for  which  we  have  a 
predilection  ourselves.  And  yet  the  self-deception  is 
never  quite  complete.  There  frequently  appears  a 
suspicion  that  all  is  not  right  or  as  it  should  be ;  and 
perhaps  there  is  always  at  bottom  somewhat  of  this 
sort.*    But  this  being  so,  it  is  always  possible  to  be  on 

'  Sermon  III.  §  4.  =  Sermon  VII. 

s  Sermon  X.  Sermon  X.  §  13. 


BUTLER'S  SERMONS 


111 


our  guard,  to  be  honest  with  ourselves,  and,  by  so  doing, 
escape  that  which  is  the  worst  of  all  evils,  that  self- 
delusion  which  "  undermines  the  whole  principle  of 
good;  which  darkens  that  light,  that  candle  of  the  Lord 
within,  which  is  to  direct  our  steps,  and  corrupts  con- 
science, which  is  the  guide  of  life."  ^ 

Various  objections  have  been  taken  at  different  times 
to  Butler's  doctrine  of  conscience.  We  will  consider 
the  three  chief  of  them. 

The  first  relates  to  the  coherence  and  consistency 
of  Butler's  own  system.  It  has  been  urged  that  while 
Butler  posits  the  existence  certainly  of  two,  and  per- 
haps of  three,  "  superior "  principles  in  human  nature, 
he  has  made  no  effort  to  adjust  their  claims  or  de- 
termine their  relationships.  Self-love  often,  and  some- 
times benevolence,  are  spoken  of  by  him  as  "  superior  " 
principles  in  our  nature, — how  are  we  to  conceive  of 
these  as  related  to  conscience  ?  In  spite  of  one  un- 
guarded passage,  in  which  he  says,  "  Let  it  be  allowed 
though  virtue  or  moral  rectitude  does  consist  in  affection 
to  and  pursuit  of  what  is  right  and  good  as  such,  yet  that 
when  we  sit  down  in  a  cool  hour  we  can  neither  justify 
to  ourselves  this  or  any  other  pursuit  till  we  are  convinced 
that  it  will  be  to  our  happiness,  or  at  least  not  contrary  to 
it " ;  ^  and  so  apparently  makes  the  obligation  of  listen- 
ing to  conscience  depend  on  its  conduciveness  to  happi- 
ness ;  yet  there  is  no  doubt  that,  in  the  main,  Butler's 
position  is  just  the  opposite  of  this.  He  contends  that  if 
self-interest  and  conscience  do  ever  colhde, — and  the  occa- 
sions on  which  they  may  even  seem  to  do  so  will  always 
be  very  rare, — then  the  claims  of  conscience  are  para- 
mount ;  and  self-interest  will  always  have  to  bow  before, 
and  recognise  its  superior  in,  conscience.  Such  a  passage 
as  the  following  is  decisive  on  this  point.  "  This  gives 
us,"  he  says,  "  a  further  view  of  the  natm-e  of  man, 
'  Sermou  X.  §  19.  =  Sermon  XI.  §  21, /(w. 


112    BISHOP  BUTLEE:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


shows  us  what  course  of  life  we  were  made  for  ;  and  not 
only  that  our  real  nature  leads  us  to  be  influenced  in 
some  degree  by  reflection  and  conscience ;  but  likewise 
in  what  degree  we  are  to  be  influenced  by  it,  if  we  will 
fall  in  with  and  act  agreeably  to  the  constitution  of  our 
nature ;  that  this  faculty  was  placed  within  to  be  our 
proper  governor;  to  direct  and  regulate  all  under 
principles,  passions,  and  motives  of  action.  This  is  its 
right  and  office;  thus  sacred  is  its  authority.  And 
how  often  soever  men  violate  and  rebelUously  refuse 
to  listen  to  it,  for  supposed  interest  which  they  cannot 
otherwise  obtain,  or  for  the  sake  of  passion  which  they 
cannot  otherwise  gratify,  this  makes  no  alteration  as 
to  the  natural  right  or  office  of  conscience."  ^  Notice 
here  that  conscience  is  recognised  as  equally  supreme 
whether  confronted  by  the  promptings  of  passion  or 
the  dictates  of  a  supposed  self-interest.  In  fact,  Butler 
held  self-interest  and  conscience  can  never  clash, — to 
obey  our  conscience  must  always  be  our  highest  interest ; 
but  when  they  seem  to  point  in  different  directions, 
then  self-love  must  j  ield  to  conscience. 

A  second  objection  which  is  urged  is  that  the 
doctrine  involves  an  argument  in  a  circle.  If  you 
ask  what  is  right  ? — the  answer  must  be  that  which 
conscience  approves,  and  wrong  that  which  it  disap- 
proves ;  and  if  you  ask  again,  what  is  it  that  conscience 
approves? — the  answer  can  only  be,  that  it  approves 
the  right,  and  that  what  it  disapproves  is  the  wrong.* 
But  is  it  not  the  very  nature  of  all  ultimate  and  im- 
mediate judgments — and  Butler's  contention  is  that 
the  verdicts  of  conscience  are  both  ultimate  and  im- 
mediate— is  it  not  the  very  condition  of  such  judgments 
to  be  exposed  to  the  reproach  of  being  arguments  in  a 
circle  ?    The  very  meaning  of  an  ultimate  judgment  is 

'  Sermon  II.  §  19.    The  italics  are  not  in  the  original. 
^  Leslie  Stephen,  English  Thought,  vol.  ii.  p.  51. 


BUTLER'S  SERMONS 


113 


that  we  can  give  no  further  reason  for  the  verdict  which 
it  pronounces.  An  act  of  ingratitude,  or  an  ungrateful 
temper,  strikes  us  as  mean  and  wrong,  and  there  is  an 
end  of  it;  just  as  a  deed  of  generosity  or  an  act  of 
heroism  apx^eals  to  us  as  noble,  virtuous,  and  praiseworthy. 
Behind  this  we  cannot  get,  and  there  is  no  need  to  do  so. 
We  may  explain  with  more  or  less  probability  how 
man  has  come  to  acquire  this  consciousness  of  right  and 
wrong,  but  the  consciousness  itself  remains  an  ultimate 
fact 

But  then,  does  this  forbid  us  to  recognise  the  possi- 
bility of  any  growth  or  development  in  the  conscience 
or  moral  sense  ?  The  question  had  not  arisen  in 
Butler's  time,  and  no  answer  to  it  is  consequently  to  be 
found  in  him  ;  indeed,  he  seems  to  assume  that  conscience 
in  all  men,  whose  judgment  is  not  perverted  by  self- 
partiality,  is  one  and  the  same ;  that  there  are  in  the 
judgments  of  conscience  no  variations,  and  no  possi- 
bility of  growth.  That  was  the  unhistorical  eighteenth 
century  way  of  regarding  the  matter.  But  if  we  may 
attempt  to  answer  the  question  for  ourselves,  I  think 
we  may  say  that  an  intuitive  moral  judgment  may  still 
be  capable  of  growth.  Let  us  take  a  case  or  two  and  see 
how  this  may  be.  That  which  the  moral  sense  approves 
of  as  an  end  ultimately  right,  and  in  itself  good  and 
desirable,  is  the  doing  good  to  others,  i.e.  increasing  the 
sum  of  their  haj^piness,  and  still  more  the  promotion  of 
their  moral  excellence,  the  improvement  of  their  char- 
acter. Now,  in  the  first  place,  there  is  clearly  room 
for  development  in  the  interpretation  which  we  put 
upon  the  word  "  others."  A  savage,  while  despising 
and  disapproving  the  purely  selfish  and  heartless  char- 
acter, will  yet  interpret  the  sphere  of  duty  in  a  very 
narrow  way ;  "  others  "  for  him  will  mean  at  most  his 
own  family,  his  friends,  and  possibly  his  tribe.  But 
gradually  the  horizon  widens,  till  country  takes  the 
8 


114    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


place  of  his  tribe,  and  finally  even  mankind  may  in  a 
few  choice  spirits  take  the  place  of  country.  So,  too, 
our  judgment  of  particular  acts  and  types  of  character 
will  vary  as  we  come  more  clearly  to  recognise,  through 
the  teaching  of  experience,  the  bearing  which  such  acts 
and  such  characters  are  likely  to  have  upon  the  moral 
well  -  being  of  society.  The  underlying  principles 
which  we  approve  or  disapprove  in  the  acts  or  char- 
acters remain  the  same,  but  reason  and  experience  tend 
to  modify  the  interpretation  we  shall  give  to  these 
principles.  As  it  is  with  the  collective  conscience  of 
the  nation  or  race,  so  is  it  to  a  large  extent  with  the 
consciences  of  individuals.  These,  too,  gain  by  the 
teaching  of  experience.  To  both  alike  new  duties  or 
new  forms  of  duty  are  propounded  by  the  great  moral 
teachers  of  mankind, — and  the  teachings  so  propounded 
are  accepted  by  the  consciences  of  those  to  whom  they 
are  addressed,  or  rejected  by  them ;  and,  if  accepted, 
profoundly  modify  the  moral  consciousness  of  all  who 
come  after  them.  But  had  not  men  some  ultimate 
power  of  judging  of  rightness  and  wrongness  in  prin- 
ciples, in  actions,  and  in  character,  to  what  could  new 
teachings  address  their  appeal,  how  should  we  judge  of 
the  doctrines  propounded  to  us  ?  How  could  we  pro- 
nounce the  moral  teaching  of  Christianity  to  be  right, 
that  of  Mahomet  in  the  main  wrong?  That  we  do 
not  consciously  judge  of  actions  and  characters  merely 
as  they  are  "useful"  or  the  reverse  is  sufficiently 
obvious ;  but  if  so,  does  it  not  necessarily  foUow  that  we 
must  have  some  internal  faculty,  call  it  conscience, 
moral  sense,  practical  reason,  or  what  you  like,  by  the 
use  of  which  we  frame  our  moral  judgments  ? 

But  thirdly,  it  is  objected  to  Butler's  doctrine  of  con- 
science that  he  does  not  explain  what  the  natiu-e  of  the 
faculty  is  ;  still  less  does  he  attempt  to  give  any  account 
of  its  origin.    To  some  extent,  it  must  be  allowed,  the 


BUTLER'S  SERMONS 


115 


objection  is  well  founded.  Butler,  for  instance,  leaves  it 
very  vague  whether  he  regards  conscience  as  a  form  of 
reason  or  of  emotion,  or  as  containing  an  element  of  both. 
The  term  "reflection,"  which  he  often  uses  as  synonymous 
with  "  conscience,"  seems  to  suggest  that  it  is  connected 
with  the  reason,  nor  does  he  hesitate  to  speak  of  con- 
science as  a  reasonable  principle ;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  stress  which  he  lays  on  conscience  as  approv- 
ing and  disapproving,  on  the  pain  wliich  an  evil  conscience 
inflicts  upon  us,  on  the  pleasure  which  we  derive  from 
a  good  one,  shows  that  he  recognises  an  element  of 
emotion  as  included  in  the  ideal  of  it  as  well  as  an 
element  of  reason.  But  this  vagueness  was  probably 
not  undesigned.  He  felt  sure  that  all  would  under- 
stand what  he  meant  by  the  words  "  reflection "  and 
"  conscience  " ;  and  the  question  whether  it  was  a  form 
of  the  reason  or  a  phase  of  emotion,  or  a  combination 
of  both,  did  not  really  affect  the  position  which  he 
wished  to  assign  to  it  or  the  authority  he  claimed  for 
it.  Such  questions  seemed  only  likely,  if  propounded, 
to  draw  off  people's  attention  from  the  main  issue.  In 
fact,  the  question  has  never  been,  even  to  this  day, 
satisfactorily  settled.  When  Kant  speaks  of  the 
"  practical  reason "  as  a  form  of  reason  distinct  from 
the  theoretical,  or  tells  us  that  reason  speaks  to  us  in 
moral  matters  with  a  "  categorical  imperative,"  what  is 
he  doing  but  practically  admitting  that  in  this  sphere 
reason  comes  to  us  tinged  with  emotion,  and  no  longer 
addresses  us  in  the  same  cold  tones  in  which  it  ad- 
dresses us  when  it  tells  us  what  is  truth  ?  Or  again, 
when  Hume  complains  that  Clarke  and  his  school  are  in 
their  moral  reasonings  always  substituting  what "  ought 
to  be  "  for  what "  is,"  his  criticism  amounts  to  this,  that 
it  is  impossible  to  treat  morals  as  mere  matters  of  fact ; 
that  there  is  an  element  which  any  statement  of  them 
as  mere  matters  of  fact  fails  to  account  for  or  justify. 


116    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


Thus  we  shall  consider  it  not  so  much  an  objection  to 
Butler's  system  as  a  sign  of  his  wisdom,  that  he  refuses 
to  be  led  into  the  interminable  question  whether  con- 
science is  more  properly  described  as  a  form  of  reason 
or  of  emotion,  but  contents  himself  instead  with  point- 
ing to  it  as  an  indubitable  fact  in  our  nature,  a  fact 
which  no  one  could  reasonably  gainsay  or  misunderstand. 

And  when  it  is  further  objected,  as  is  often  done, 
that  he  attempts  to  give  no  account  of  the  origin  or 
development  of  conscience,  something  like  the  same 
answer  must  be  made  :  it  was  not  his  business  or  his 
interest  to  do  so.  To  conscience  as  an  existing  fact,  to 
the  authority  which  it  claimed,  and  claimed  as  consti- 
tuting a  part  of  its  very  idea  and  as  inseparable  from 
itself,  he  could  appeal,  and  appeal  with  confidence ; 
these  were  matters  which  were  within  the  cognisance 
of  all,  or  almost  all,  his  readers.  Every  one  knows  he 
has  a  conscience,  and  is  conscious  of  acting  sometimes 
in  such  a  way  as  to  merit  and  receive  its  approval, 
sometimes  so  as  to  draw  down  its  disapproval  and  to 
be  tortui'ed  with  the  pains  of  remorse.  To  most  of  his 
readers  it  seems,  further,  a  natural  inference,  a  fair 
interpretation  of  the  facts  of  consciousness,  that  con- 
science speaks  to  them  with  no  arbitrary  voice,  but 
as  the  mouthpiece  of  a  principle  of  eternal  righteous- 
ness ;  in  other  words,  it  is  the  viceroy  of  God  Himself, 
— "  if  not  forcibly  stopped,  it  naturally  and  always,  of 
course,  goes  on  to  anticipate  a  higher  and  more  effectual 
sentence,  which  shall  hereafter  second  and  affirm  its 
own."  ^  But  to  enter  on  the  question  how  we  came  by 
such  a  faculty  or  power  is  to  leave  the  region  of  fact 
and  to  enter  on  that  of  speculation,  and  speculation  of 
a  particularly  difficult  and  uncertain  kind, — a  specula- 
tion, we  may  further  observe,  which  has  been,  and 
will  always  be,  largely  determined  by  the  \aew  which 

1  Sermon  IL  §  10. 


BUTLER'S  SEEMONS 


117 


we  take  of  the  precise  nature  of  the  phenomena  whose 
nature  is  to  be  explained.  No  doubt,  the  question  of 
origin  throws  in  its  turn  some  light  upon  the  nature  of 
the  faculty.  Thus  the  view  that  conscience,  as  Mr.  "Leslie 
Stephen  would  have  us  believe,  represents  nothing 
more  than  the  aggregate  of  those  principles  and 
maxims  which  the  unconscious  lessons  of  experience 
and  the  working  of  evolution  have  taught  men  in 
general,  or  rather,  particular  races  of  mankind,  to  regard 
as  necessary  to  the  health,  well-being,  or  permanence 
of  society ;  while  it  certainly  would  tend  to  diminish 
in  most  men  their  reverence  for  the  promptings  of 
conscience,  seems  also  to  leave  out  some  of  the  most 
essential  features  of  conscience  itself,  and  could  not  be 
accepted  as  an  adequate  explanation  by  any  one  who 
fully  recognised  its  dignity  and  authority.  Why  should 
I  feel  obliged,  it  might  be  asked,  to  listen  to  the  prompt- 
ings of  a  conscience  thus  evolved  ?  How  could  its 
dictates  inspire  me  with  the  reverence  which  I  actually 
feel  for  the  moral  law  as  interpreted  by  my  own  actual 
consciousness  ?  No  doubt,  if  you  believe  the  evolution 
of  society  to  be  itself  the  work  of  a  Divine  power  or 
principle,  yo;i  read  back  into  conscience  some  of  the 
elements  of  which  your  account  of  its  origin  has  other- 
wise emptied  it ;  but  this  seems  to  be  getting  by  an 
indirect  path  to  that  belief  in  a  God  which  is  much 
more  directly  reached  by  a  true  and  adequate  analysis 
of  the  data  furnished  by  conscience  itself.  The  point, 
then,  to  which  we  are  brought  round  is  this,  that  while 
Butler  might  perhaps  have  strengthened  his  position 
in  some  points  by  tracing  the  genesis  of  conscience 
and  following  up  its  natural  history,  it  was  by  no 
means  incumbent  on  him,  and  it  would  have  been 
practically  impossible  for  him,  writing  when  he  did, 
to  adopt  this  course.  He  has  a  perfect  right  to 
assume  conscience  as  an  existing  fact  of  human  nature, 


118    BISHOP  BUTLEE  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


and  if  he  has  not  misrepresented  its  character,  or 
read  into  it  elements  not  really  to  be  found  in  it,  his 
argument  remains  unrefuted,  even  though  he  has  failed 
to  prove  the  inadequacy  of  theories  which  had  not 
then  been  promulgated,  theories  which  derive  part  of 
their  plausibihty  from  their  omitting  some  features 
in  the  complex  result  which  they  are  put  forward  to 
explain. 

4.  Butler's  doctrine  of  conscience  leads  up  to  and 
culminates  in  his  doctrme  of  the  love  of  God ;  his 
teachings  on  morahty  thus  find  their  climax  in  religion. 
That  they  should  do  so  Butler  assumes  as  ine'satable ; 
and  in  so  arguing  he  was  but  reflecting  the  general 
opinion  of  his  age.  Where  he  differed  from  his 
contemporaries  was  not  in  assuming  that  reason  and 
conscience  led  directly  to  a  behef  in  God,  but  partly 
as  to  the  character  of  the  God  to  whose  existence  he 
believed  they  pointed,  and  partly  as  to  the  attitude 
towards  Him  which  he  regards  it  as  reasonable  for 
man  to  adopt.  Butler  assumes  that  the  God  whom 
conscience  reveals  to  us  is  the  perfect  expression  or 
impersonation  of  that  moral  law  which  we  find  written 
in  oiu'  hearts;  the  absolute  embodiment  of  all^those 
qualities  which  we  feel  ought  to  prevail  in  om'selves, 
and  which  call  forth  our  enthusiastic  admii-ation  as 
we  contemplate  them  when  exemplified  in  our  fellow- 
men.  God  was  thus  to  Butler  no  mere  "  first  cause " 
called  in  by  speculative  iutellect  to  give  a  rational 
groundwork  to  the  universe.  He  was  a  Person,  and 
a  Person  endowed  with  the  perfection  of  all  moral 
qualities.  Nothing  short  of  the  assimiption  of  such  a 
Person  as  the  central,  underlying,  creative,  and  govern- 
ing principle  of  the  universe  seems,  he  urges,  to  satisfy 
the  aspirations  of  the  human  heart  or  the  requirements 
of  the  human  conscience  and  reason.  But  if  this  be 
so,  then  a  Being  who  exhibits  in  absolute  perfection 


BUTLEE'S  SERMONS 


119 


all  those  moral  qualities  which  we  most  approve  of 
in  ourselves,  and  most  admire  and  reverence  in  others, 
cannot  but  be  an  object  of  reverence,  affection,  and  love 
on  the  part  of  all  those  who  admire  and  reverence 
such  qualities.  Our  hearts  cannot  but  warm  to  such 
a  Person ;  it  is  impossible  for  them  to  be  cold  and  in- 
different to  Him.  And  further,  the  consideration  and 
knowledge  that  such  a  Person  is  our  proper  guardian 
and  governor  would  much  more  bring  these  objects 
and  qualities  home  to  ourselves ;  teach  us  they  had 
a  greater  respect  to  us  in  particular,  that  we  had  a 
higher  interest  in  that  wisdom  and  power  and  goodness. 
We  shall  with  joy,  gratitude,  reverence,  love,  trust, 
and  dependence  appropriate  the  character  as  what 
we  have  a  right  in,  and  make  our  boast  in  such  our 
relation  to  it.  "  As  the  whole  attention  of  life  should 
be  to  obey  His  commands ;  so  the  highest  enjoyment  of 
it  must  arise  from  the  contemplation  of  this  character, 
and  our  relation  to  it,  from  a  consciousness  of  His 
favour  and  approbation,  and  from  the  exercise  of  those 
affections  towards  Him  which  could  not  but  be  gained 
from  His  presence."  ^  And  again  :  "  Thus  Almighty  God 
is  the  natural  object  of  the  several  afiections;  love, 
reverence,  fear,  desire  of  approbation.^  All  centre  in 
Him  as  their  object.  He  calls  them  all  out ;  and  we 
can  thus  worship  Him  with  an  unselfish  worship,  and 
find  in  Him  the  suitable  and  adequate  object  on  which 
our  deepest  feelings  can  repose.  Very  different  from 
this  was  the  ordinary  attitude  of  Butler's  contem- 
poraries towards  God.  Gratitude  they  might  feel 
towards  Him,  as  one  who  had  conferred  favours  upon 
them  in  the  past ;  hope  and  fear  they  might  entertain 
towards  Him  as  the  dispenser  of  rewards  and  punish- 
ment, of  happiness  and  misery  alike  in  this  world  and 
the  next ;  but  so  far  had  the  very  notion  of  His 
»  Sermon  XIII.  §  10.  ■  Ibid.  §  17. 


120    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


being  a  proper  object  for  reverence  and  love  disap- 
peared from  among  them,  that  Butler  devotes  the  whole 
of  the  Thirteenth  Sermon  to  show  that  such  feeUngs 
can  rationally  be  entertained  towards  Him,  and  that 
He  is  the  natural  object  to  excite  them.  So  very 
reasonable  had  religion  in  those  days  become  "as  to 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  heart  and  affections,  if 
those  words  signify  anything  but  the  faculty  by 
which  we  discern  speculative  truth."  ^ 

Characteristically  enough,  Butler  pronounces  resigna- 
tion, which  he  defines  as  "  a  combination  of  fear,  hope, 
and  love,"  to  be  the  special  attitude  appropriate  to 
a  being,  circumstanced  like  man,  towards  the  Divine 
Being.  "  Eesignation  to  the  will  of  God  is  the  whole 
of  piety ;  it  includes  in  it  all  that  is  good,  and  is  a 
source  of  the  most  settled  quiet  and  composure  of 
mind."  2  The  foundation  for  such  a  temper  is  laid, 
he  holds,  in  the  natural  readiness  which  almost  all 
men  have,  to  acquiesce  in  the  absence  of  advantages 
which  seem  inappropriate  to  the  condition  in  which 
they  find  themselves  actually  placed ;  but  this  natural 
tendency  only  rises  into  true  resignation  when  it  is 
coupled  with  the  belief  that  the  dispensation  of  things 
under  which  we  exist  is  the  work  of  an  All-good  as 
well  as  an  All-powerful  Governor.  When  such  a  belief 
is  present  and  active,  then  mere  acquiescence  in  the 
inevitable  becomes  joyful  and  trustful  acceptance  of 
what  is  ordained,  a  conviction  that  at  bottom  it  is 
good,  and  for  the  best  alike  for  ourselves  and  for 
the  whole  or  system  of  which  we  are  a  part;  and 
this  is  the  temper  of  true  resignation.  But  while 
resignation  is  the  right  temper  for  those  who  are 
circumstanced  as  men  are  on  earth,  we  may  look 
forward,  urges  Butler,  to  a  higher  measure  of  the 
fruition  of  God's  presence  hereafter.    Not  only  may 

1  Sermou  XIII.  §  1.  ■  Seriuon  XIV.  §  3. 


BUTLER'S  SERMONS 


121 


we  be  then  able  to  enter  into  the  plans  and  laws 
which  we  can  apprehend  at  most  only  partially  now, 
but  we  may  also  contemplate  directly  the  wisdom 
which  plans  and  the  goodness  which  orders  them,  and 
may  become  acquainted  even  in  some  more  intimate 
way  with  Him  who  is  the  author  of  them,  in  whom 
that  wisdom  and  that  goodness  fully  reside.  Then 
"  shall  we  know  even  as  also  we  are  known."  In 
that  "  beatific  vision,"  when  in  no  fanciful  sense  we 
shall  be  "beholding  all  things  in  God,"  our  nature 
may  find  that  full  content  and  perfect  satisfaction 
which  on  earth  we  are  conscious  we  never  attain.^ 

The  two  sermons  are  interesting  not  only  because 
they  carry  out  and  complete  Butler's  moral  doctrine, 
nor  only  also  because  they  shadow  forth  various  lines 
of  thought  which  were  afterwards  worked  out  more 
fully  in  the  Analogy;  but  still  more  because  of  the 
noble  and  elevated  protest  they  contain  against  the 
view  of  a  future  life  which  was  generally  prevalent 
in  the  earUer  part  of  the  eighteenth  century.  The 
notions  formed  of  heaven  and  hell  were  still  of  the 
crudest  and  most  material  kind.  Heaven  and  hell  were 
valued  most,  even  by  orthodox  divines,  as  sanctions 
for  morality  which  appealed  strongly  to  the  imagina- 
tions of  the  common  people,  which  were  "  useful," 
and  perhaps  indispensable,  in  order  to  procure  respect 
for  the  ethical  code.  As  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen  points 
out,  Paley  is  the  typical  example  of  the  moralists 
(and  we  may  add  also  of  the  divines)  who  enjoyed 
the  greatest  reputation  throughout  the  eighteenth 
century.  In  the  "  theological  utilitarianism "  which 
they  profess,  "  heaven  and  hell  are  the  weights  which 
work  the  great  machine  of  the  universe,  so  far  as 
it  has  any  moral  significance,  and  love  of  pleasure 
and  fear  of  pain  are  the  passions  through  which  they 

1  Sermon  XIV.  §§  10  and  19. 


122    BISHOP  BUTLEK:  HIS  LIFE  AND  ^\^EITINGS 


aet."i  To  such  a  system  the  spirit  of  Butler,  though 
in  places  he  seems  to  bow  to  it,  remains  on  the  whole 
essentially  opposed.  Goodness  and  virtue  are  for  him 
intrinsically  good  and  valuable,  apart  from  any  happi- 
ness they  may  bring  in  their  train ;  to  them  our  nature 
corresponds  ;  in  the  contemplation  of  them,  as  exhibited 
in  Him  who  is  the  Author  and  Cause  of  all  things,  it 
can  find  a  satisfaction  and  delight  which  will  give  it  that 
perfect  content  which  no  other  kind  of  pleasm-e  can 
equally  supply.  And  the  opposite  to  all  this  holds  good 
of  evil.  It  is  bad  in  itself,  not  merely  because  it  brings 
pain;  our  nature  at  bottom  feels  a  repulsion  to  it 
and  loathes  it ;  and  the  shame  and  pain  of  having 
done  evil,  iii  any  nature  capable  of  reformation,  remain 
at  once  the  severest  penalty  for  the  evil  we  have 
done  and  the  best  earnest  of  an  ultimate  remedy. 
On  the  fate  of  the  hopelessly  and  incurably  bad  neither 
he  nor  we  are  called  upon  to  pronoimce. 

5.  The  last  of  the  sermons,  that  upon  the  Ignorance 
of  Man,  must  be  regarded  as  a  sort  of  prelude  to  the 
Analogy,  of  which,  indeed,  it  contains  the  most  funda- 
mental argument.  This  sermon  shows  that  Butler, 
before  he  gave  up  his  preachership  at  the  EoUs,  had 
already  entered  on  that  train  of  thought  to  which  he 
gave  adequate  and  complete  expression  in  the  Analogy, 
though  this  was  not,  however,  published  till  ten  years 
later.  There  was  much  in  the  circumstances  of  the 
time  to  call  attention  to  what  constitutes  the  theme 
of  the  sermon,  the  Ignorance  of  Man.  The  dis- 
coveries of  Copernicus,  and  stUl  more  of  Newton, 
while  they  had  enlarged,  almost  beyond  precedent, 
the  boundaries  of  human  knowledge,  had  emphasised, 
at  least  in  an  equal  degree,  the  depths  of  human 
ignorance.    They  had  given  man  a  conception,  vast 

^  English  Thought,  vol.  ii.  p.  124.  Locke  at  an  earlier  date  had 
taught  the  same  doctrine,  Essay  I.  ii.  §§  6,  12,  13  ;  II.  xxviii.  §§  5,  6. 


BUTLER'S  SERMONS 


123 


beyond  all  previous  imaginafcion,  of  the  extent  of  the 
universe,  and  had  taught  him  how  small  a  part  our 
world,  and  consequently  still  more  man  himself,  must 
play  in  the  economy  of  the  whole.  The  enemies  of 
reUgion  had  not  been  slow  to  point  the  argument 
which  this  enlarged  conception  of  the  universe  sug- 
gested, against  the  possibility  of  a  superintending 
Providence,  and  still  more  of  a  revelation.  How,  they 
had  asked,  is  it  possible  to  believe  that  a  God,  who 
is  the  creator  and  governor  of  so  stupendous  a  whole, 
can  concern  Himself  with  the  affairs  of  man,  or  can 
have  made  any  special  revelation  of  Himself  to  so 
insignificant  a  being  ?  Why  should  He  thus  choose 
a  favom-ed  few  to  be  the  special  recipients  of  His 
grace  ?  It  was  some  such  underlying  thought  as  this 
which  prompted  and  gave  its  strength  to  Deism  both 
in  its  positive  and  in  its  negative  form.  But  Butler 
perceived  that  the  weapon  furnished  by  the  extent 
of  man's  ignorance  was  really  double-edged ;  and  that 
it  might  be  used  no  less  effectively  against  the  objectors 
to,  than  against  the  supporters  of,  religion.  For  if 
man  lives  in  such  a  remote  and  unimportant  corner 
of  the  universe  as  science  now  relegates  him  to,  how 
certain  is  it  that  he  can  form  at  most  a  very  im- 
perfect and  inadequate  notion  of  the  scheme  of  the 
universe  as  a  whole,  and  of  the  ends  to  which  it  is 
directed.  But  without  some  such  idea  of  the  governing 
principle  of  the  universe  as  a  whole,  how  little  is 
man  in  a  position  to  criticise  any  of  the  details  of 
the  arrangements  of  the  world  in  which  he  lives. 
How  evident  is  it  that  to  one  thus  circumstanced 
many  apparent  difficulties  in  the  arrangements  must 
present  themselves,  many  things  appear  "  to  which 
objection  may  reasonably  be  taken ! "  Nor  need  it 
surprise  us  that  man  should  have  been  put,  or  left,  in 
such  a  condition  of  ignorance.   For  carrying  on  his  own 


124    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


concerns  he  has  been  given  sufficient  light,  and  has  been 
furnished  with  sufficient  guidance  to  show  him  what 
are  the  Unes  on  which  his  conduct  should  be  directed. 
"  He  cannot,  if  he  uses  his  faculties,  mistake  where 
his  happiness  or  his  duty  hes."  But  there  are  many 
things  which  he  has  to  take  on  trust  and  cannot 
fully  understand.  That  this  should  be  so  forms  part, 
indeed,  of  his  probation.  "  Difficulties  in  speculation 
as  much  come  into  the  notion  of  a  state  of  probation 
as  difficulties  in  pi'actice;  and  so  the  same  reason  or 
account  is  to  be  given  of  both."  ^  For  the  strict 
discharge  of  our  duty  with  less  sensible  evidence  may 
produce  a  better  character,  than  the  same  diligence  in 
discharge  of  it  upon  more  sensible  evidence. 

One  practical  conclusion  which  Butler  draws  from 
these  considerations  many  will  find  open  to  question. 
The  narrowness  of  the  limits  within  which  human 
knowledge  is  confined  makes  it  clear,  in  his  judgment, 
that  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  could  not  have  been 
intended  as  the  ultimate  goal  and  end  of  hmnan  Life. 
"  But  it  is  evident  that  there  is  another  mark  set  up  for 
us  to  aim  at ;  another  end  appointed  us  to  direct  our 
lives  to  ;  an  end  which  the  most  knowing  may  fail  of  and 
the  most  ignorant  arrive  at.  .  .  .  Socrates  was  not  the 
first  who  endeavoured  to  draw  men  off  from  labouring 
after,  and  laying  stress  upon,  other  knowledge  in  com- 
parison of  that  which  related  to  morals.  Our  province 
is  vii'tue  and  rehgion,  life  and  manners ;  the  science  of 
improving  the  temper  and  making  the  heart  better. 
This  is  the  field  assigned  us  to  cultivate ;  how  much  it 
has  lain  neglected  is  indeed  astonishing.  Virtue  is 
demonstrably  the  happiness  of  man ;  it  consists  in  good 
actions,  proceeding  from  a  good  principle,  temper,  or 
heart.  Overt  acts  are  entirely  in  our  power.  What 
remains  is  that  we  learn  to  keep  our  heart ;  to  govern 

'  Sermon  XV.  §  8. 


BUTLEK'S  SERMONS 


125 


and  regulate  our  passions,  mind,  affections,  that  so  we 
may  be  free  from  the  impotencies  of  fear,  envy,  malice, 
covetousness,  ambition ;  that  we  may  be  clear  of  these 
considered  as  vices  seated  in  the  heart,  considered  as  con- 
stituting a  general  wrong  temper  ;  from  which  general 
wrong  frame  of  mind  all  the  mistaken  pursuits,  and  far 
the  greatest  part  of  the  unhappiness  of  life,  proceed. 
He  who  should  find  out  one  rule  to  assist  us  in  this 
work  would  deserve  infinitely  better  of  mankind  than  all 
the  improvers  of  other  knowledge  put  together."  ^  The 
sentiment  is  certainly  exaggerated ;  the  last  statement 
is,  I  think,  even  doul^tfully  true.  Moral  rules,  and  even 
systems  of  morals,  have  had  less  practical  value  than 
might  be  expected  of  them ;  sermons  will  not  avail,  alas, 
always  to  make,  or  to  keep,  men  virtuous;  growing 
knowledge  has  done  much  for  the  material  well-being, 
and  so  for  the  true  happiness  of  mankind  :  it  has  helped 
to  improve  in  many  ways  the  external  conditions  of  life, 
and  so  the  life  lived  under  those  conditions.  And  yet 
there  is  a  kernel  of  truth,  after  all,  in  the  bishop's 
teaching ;  the  life  still  remains  more  than  meat,  and  the 
body  than  raiment ;  we  may  still  ask — What  is  a  man 
profited  should  he  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his 
own  soul  ?  or  what  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for 
his  soul  ?  The  lesson  is  one  which  needs  greatly  to  be 
brought  home  to  an  age  which  mistakes  instruction  for 
education ;  and  shouts  over  the  discovery  of  a  new  comet 
or  new  element,  or  an  accelerated  mode  of  travelling, 
as  if  it  was  some  certain  and  permanent  addition  to 
human  happiness  and  human  well-being. 

1  Sermon  XV.  §§  14,  15. 


CHAPTER  IV 


THE  DEISTS  AND  THE  DEISTICAL  CONTROVERSY 

Every  great  work,  and  the  Analogy  among  the  rest,  is 
determined  and  limited  not  only  by  the  bent  of  the 
author's  genius,  but  also  by  the  circumstances  and  con- 
ditions of  the  author's  own  time.  If  this  is  true  of  all 
writings,  necessarily  most  true  is  it  of  writings  of  an 
apologetic  character.  The  objections  which  such  writ- 
ings are  intended  to  meet  must,  if  the  answers  to  them 
are  to  have  any  worth  or  reaUty,  be  the  objections 
actually  felt  and  expressed  by  the  writer's  own  contem- 
poraries, and  those  which  are  actually  current  in  the 
society  in  which  he  moves.  It  would  have  been  im- 
possible for  Butler,  who  was  the  most  real  of  men, 
to  meet  any  but  real  objections;  objections,  that  is, 
which  were  actually  experienced,  and  which  had  real 
weight  and  influence  with  the  men  who  were  his  own 
contemporaries  and  associates.  And  so  we  find,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  that,  as  Mr.  Pattison  puts  it,  "the  Analogy 
furnishes  a  sort  of  summary  of  the  deistical  controversy. 
There  is  probably  not  a  single  argument  advanced  on 
the  deistical  side  which  Butler  has  not  pondered,  and  to 
which  he  has  not  furnished  something  of  an  answer."  ^ 
But  if  this  be  so  it  is  obviously  impossible  to  under- 
stand the  Analogy,  or  even  to  study  it  to  advantage 
if  we  have  not  informed  ourselves  of  the  main 
deistical  positions  and  of  the  arguments  by  which 

1  Pattison's  Essays,  Essay  I.    Above,  Chap.  II.  pp.  59,  60. 


DEISTS  AND  THE  DEISTICAL  CONTEOVERSY  127 

from  time  to  time  the  deists  attempted  to  establish 
those  positions. 

The  distinctive  note,  as  Mr.  Pattison  has  also  pointed 
out,  of  the  eighteenth  century  is  that  it  is  an  age  of 
rationalism — an  age,  that  is,  which  professes  to  rest 
and  justify  all  its  beliefs  on  grounds  of  strict  reason ; 
one  which  was  unwilling  to  admit  or  accept  any  beliefs 
which  could  not  be  so  justified.  Of  this  general 
characteristic  of  the  time  the  Deists  were  the  most  ad- 
vanced and  consistent  exponents.  Various  causes  had 
combined  to  impress  upon  the  age  its  rationalistic  char- 
acter. The  beliefs  of  the  preceding  century  had,  as  we 
have  already  seen,  become  outworn ;  but  when  beliefs 
are  no  longer  held  with  full  conviction,  men  begin  to  try 
and  justify  them,  and  the  attempt  to  justify  involves 
of  itself  an  appeal  to  reason.  The  revolt  from  Eome, 
again,  had  shaken  authority  to  its  very  base ;  and  the 
appeal  to  reason  took  the  place  which  the  dethronement 
of  authority  had  left  vacant.  After  the  Eestoration, 
again,  the  Church  of  England  attempted  to  substitute  a 
joint  appeal  to  antiquity  and  scripture  for  the  simpler 
appeal  to  authority  made  then,  as  ever,  by  the  Church 
of  Eome.  But  the  appeal  itself  was,  as  compared  with 
the  pretensions  of  the  Church  of  Eome,  a  reasonable 
appeal ;  and  in  the  controversies  between  the  two 
Churches  reason  had  to  be  called  in  as  the  ultimate 
arbitrator  in  the  strife.  The  Protestant  sects,  in  their 
attacks  upon  the  Church  of  England,  or  in  their  contro- 
versies with  one  another,  had  necessarily  to  resort  to  the 
same  court;  and  all  of  these  in  theory,  though  not  in  fact, 
recognised  the  decision  of  reason  as  final.  Thus  from 
every  side  the  sway  of  reason  seemed  to  be  proclaimed. 

There  were  two  other  influences  which  told  in  the 
same  direction.  The  progress  of  geographical  dis- 
covery, and  particularly  the  opening  up  of  the  vast 
Chinese  Empire,  had  made  men  ask  themselves  the 


128     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


question,  whether  it  was  possible  that  God  had  left 
Himself  without  witness  among  so  many  millions  of 
mankind ;  and  the  only  possible  answer  seemed  to  be, 
that  in  providing  men  with  reason  He  had  provided 
them,  in  the  absence  of  a  direct  revelation,  with  at  least 
the  possibility  of  a  knowledge  of  Himself.  And  then, 
once  more,  the  acceptance  of  the  Copernican  system 
of  astronomy  dethroning  the  earth,  man's  habitation, 
from  its  position  as  centre  of  the  universe,  had  rendered 
some  modification  of  the  hitherto  accepted  religious 
system  inevitable ;  and  this  seemed  again  to  instal 
reason  as  the  final  arbiter  of  what  is  to  be  accepted, 
what  rejected,  and  to  give  to  it  a  position  supreme 
over  that  even  of  faith  itself. 

Deism,  then,  must  be  regarded  as  an  attempt  to  settle 
the  relations  between  faith  and  reason ;  or  rather,  as  an 
attempt  to  assert  the  claims  of  reason  as  against  those 
of  faith.  We  can  trace  four  different  stages  in  the 
history  of  the  process.  These  stages  were  by  no  means 
always  successive, — they  were  often  contemporaneous; 
but  there  existed,  if  not  a  chronological,  still  a  logical 
succession  between  them.  In  the  first  stage  reason 
took  faith  under  its  protection.  It  tried  to  show  that 
faith,  or  at  anyrate  the  faith  of  Christendom,  could  be 
justified  on  grounds  of  reason.  This  stage  is  best 
represented  in  Locke's  book.  The  Beasonahlencss  of 
Christianity.  There  is  as  yet  no  conscious  antagonism 
between  faith  and  reason ;  only  those  parts  of  Christi- 
anity which  seem  to  transcend  reason  are  slurred 
over  or  ignored.  In  the  second  stage  the  conflict 
between  faith  and  reason  begins  to  make  itself  felt; 
and  reason  sets  up  a  claim  to  reject  such  parts  of  the 
Christian  religion  as  cannot  be  directly  justified  at  its 
bar.  The  position  taken  up  by  Toland  in  Ms  work 
Christianity  not  Mysterious,  is  that  not  only  are  there  no 
truths  in  Christianity  contrary  to  reason,  but  there  are 


DEISTS  AND  THE  DEISTICAL  CONTROVEESY  129 


equally  none  above  it.^  He  seems  to  imply,  though  he 
does  not  very  clearly  state,  that  the  truths  of  Christianity 
which  would  ordinarily  be  regarded  as  above  reason 
form  no  part  of  its  essence,  and  may  properly  be  rejected. 
Of  the  third  stage,  the  writings  of  Dr.  Samuel  Clarke 
and  Tindal  may  be  taken  as  typical.  In  this  stage 
reason  constructs  a  system  which  is  independent  of 
historical  Christianity  altogether.  Christianity  is  then 
either  accepted  as  furnishing  an  external  sanction  for 
the  conclusions,  which  reason  has  previously  reached — 
the  position  assigned  it  by  Clarke ;  or  is  expressly  re- 
jected as  superfluous,  and  therefore  incredible,  as  was 
done  by  Tindal.  In  the  last  stage  reason  takes  up  a 
position  of  frank  hostility  to  historical  religion,  attempt- 
ing to  show  either  that  its  doctrines  are  in  them- 
selves incredible  or  immoral,  or  that  they  are  supported 
by  no  trustworthy  and  sufficient  evidence.  The  writings 
of  Blount  in  earlier  days ;  of  Collins,  Morgan,  Annet, 
and  Chubb  later  on,  may  be  cited  as  specimens  of  Deism 
in  this  its  most  developed  stage. 

It  will  be  desirable  to  dwell  more  at  length  on  each 
of  these  stages  in  contemporary  Deism,  since  the  Analogy 
sums  up  the  whole  controversy,  and  is  designed  as  a 
compendious  answer  to  every  form  of  objection.  But  it 
is  also  necessary  to  remember,  if  we  would  appreciate 
Butler's  great  work  aright,  that  it  attempts  even  more 
than  this,  and  seeks  to  meet  not  only  the  formal  state- 
ments of  recognised  opponents  embodied  in  their  books, 
but  also  the  difficulties  current  in  popular  thought,  diffi- 
culties which  often  formed  the  subject  of  conversation 
in  social  gatherings  of  all  kinds, — in  the  drawing-rooms 
of  the  rich,  the  coffee-taverns  of  the  wits,  and  even  the 
alehouses  frequented  by  the  poor. 

1.  Locke's  Eeasonahlcness  of  Christianity  was  published 
in  1695.  The  position  which  he  takes  up  in  this  book 
'  Ohristiardty  not  Mysterious,  %  1. 

9 


130  BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


is  a  perfectly  simple  and  clear  one.  Locke,  anxious  to 
ascertain  for  himself  what  the  teaching  of  Christianity 
precisely  was,  determined,  he  tells  us,  to  study  the 
New  Testament  afresh  at  first  hand  for  his  own  infor- 
mation. He  found  that  the  central  doctrine  contained 
in  it  was  Justification  by  Faith,  and  that  the  faith 
that  justifies  was  the  faith  that  Jesus  is  the  Divine 
Messiah. 

The  doctrine  of  the  Incarnation  receives  no  prominence, 
perhaps  even  holds  no  place,  in  Locke's  system.  Yet 
he  does  not  deny  it ;  and  we  may  say  almost  with  cer- 
tainty, he  would  not  have  done  so.  It  simply  seems  to 
him  not  the  important  aspect  of  our  Lord's  mission  and 
teaching.  What  was  important  was  that  Christ  ap- 
peared as  the  authoritative  promulgator  of  a  perfect 
moral  code ;  His  right  to  promulgate  it  with  authority 
was  attested  by  miracles,  while  the  perfection  of  the 
code  itself  was  proved  by  its  being  in  perfect  accord- 
ance with  the  highest  dictates  of  human  reason.  But 
if  Christianity  did  but  confirm  the  best  conclusions 
which  unassisted  human  reason  could  have  reached, 
what,  it  might  well  be  asked,  was  the  importance  of  its 
promulgation?  To  this  question  Locke  has  a  double 
reply.  First,  though  human  reason  might,  and  in 
some  favoured  cases  certainly  did,  reach  the  con- 
clusions formulated  in  Christianity  for  itself ;  it  could 
only  do  so  as  the  result  of  a  long  and  laborious  train  of 
thought.  The  average  intelligence  of  mankind  would 
certainly  have  failed  to  attain  anything  like  such  a 
level ;  and  even  the  highest  intellects,  in  the  few  cases 
where  they  had  argued  out  for  themselves  the  sublime 
truths  which  Christ  taught,  had  held  them  combined 
with  a  large  admixture  of  doubt  and  error.  In  the 
second  place,  it  makes  a  world  of  difference  (Locke 
holds)  in  point  of  practical  effectiveness,  whether  a 
moral  system  is  arrived  at  as  the  result  of  a  lengthened 


DEISTS  AND  THE  DEISTICAL  CONTROVEESY  131 


train  of  reasoning,  or  whether  it  comes  to  us  stamped 
with  manifest  authority,  attested  by  miracles,  taking 
the  form  of  commands,  not  of  reasoned  conclusions, — 
commands  promulgated  by  One  who  claims  to  be  the 
deputy  of  the  Divine  Governor  of  the  Universe,  and  so 
brings  with  Him  the  sanctions  by  which  such  a  Governor 
can  enforce  His  commands. 

2.  With  Toland^  the  rift  between  Christianity  and 
Eationalism  first  began  to  declare  itself.  Toland  was 
an  adventurer,  and  not  himself  a  person  of  great  im- 
portance. He  wished  to  be  considered  a  follower  of 
Locke,  who,  however,  energetically  repudiated  him. 
Nor  was  his  book  one  (though  it  showed  much  learning 
and  ingenuity)  which  would,  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances, have  been  an  epoch-making  work;  but  it 
managed  to  express,  or  rather  to  hint,  doubts  and  ques- 
tions which  were  beginning  to  make  themselves  felt  in 
many  minds ;  and  the  attention  which  Christianity  not 
Mysterious  attracted  is  evident  not  only  from  the  con- 
siderable sale  which  the  book  itself  obtained,  but  even 
more  from  the  condemnation  it  met  with  and  the  great 
crop  of  answers  which  it  called  forth.  It  was  presented 
at  the  Middlesex  sessions ;  denounced  as  heretical,  and 
ordered  to  be  burnt,  by  the  Irish  Parliament.  Convoca- 
tion itself  thought  it  necessary  solemnly  to  condemn  it. 
It  is  difticult  to  ascertain  from  the  book  itself  how  far 
Toland  was  prepared  to  go  ;  perhaps  he  did  not  know 
himself.  He  professed,  and  probably  the  profession 
was  genuine,  that  his  hope  was  "  to  make  it  appear  that 
the  use  of  reason  was  not  so  dangerous  in  religion  as  is 
commonly  represented,  and  that,  too,  by  such  as  mightily 
extol  it  when  it  seems  to  favour  them."  2  It  is  the  ex- 
crescences and  the  irrational  accretions  to  Christianity, 
not  Christianity  itself,  he  tells  us,  that  he  wants  to  get 

1  Christianity  not  Mysterious  was  published  in  1696. 
^  Ibid.  Preface,  p.  8. 


132  BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WEITINGS 


rid  of;  but  in  paring  away  excrescences  he  seems  too 
often  to  cut  away  by  the  knife  of  reason  vital  parts  as 
well ;  nor  had  he  made  it  apparent  even  to  himself  what 
was  excrescence  and  what  was  vital.  The  main  conten- 
tion of  the  book  is  sufficiently  indicated  by  its  title. 
Toland  lays  it  down  with  Locke,  that  there  can  be  no 
knowledge,  and  apparently  therefore  no  faith  either, 
except  where  we  can  perceive  the  agreement  or  dis- 
agreement of  ideas  ;  but  we  can  perceive  the  agreement  or 
disagreement  of  ideas  only  in  cases  where  the  ideas  them- 
selves which  are  to  be  compared  are  clear  and  distinct. 
In  subjects  where  we  have  but  hazy  notions  we  can 
neither  affirm  nor  deny  with  any  meaning ;  nor  can  we 
be  said  to  believe  or  disbeheve  in  any  intelligible  sense.^ 
Thus  in  beUef  and  disbelief  there  can  be,  according  to 
Toland,  no  half-lights  ;  there  is  no  room  for  vague  senti- 
ment or  anything  but  clear-cut  notions.  Yet  it  is  not 
necessary  for  affirmation  or  belief  that  we  should  know 
the  "  inward  essence  "  of  the  objects  believed  in ;  things 
may  be  known  through  their  properties.  By  a  mystery 
we  ought  not  to  mean  a  truth  of  which  we  can  form  no 
clear  conception,  a  truth  which,  in  this  sense,  is  above 
reason  ;  but  simply  a  truth  which,  once  unknown,  is 
subsequently  disclosed.  ^  The  truths  of  Christianity 
are  not  in  the  vulgar  sense  mysteries, — they  are 
neither  against  nor  above  reason ;  for  all  that  we  can 
really  believe  in  it,  as  in  any  other  system,  must  be,  as 
we  have  seen,  such  truths  as  we  can  form  clear  ideas  of, 
such  as  are  intelligible  and  within  the  grasp  of  the 
human  miad.  But  how  much  of  the  accepted  Christian 
faith  comes,  we  ask,  within  this  description  ?  Does  the 
doctrine  of  the  Trinity  ?  Does  the  doctrine  of  the 
Incarnation  itself  ?  It  was  precisely  this  point  that 
Toland  left  vague,  on  which  he  hesitates  definitely  to 

^  Christianity  not  Mysterious,  I.  chaps,  ii.  and  iv. 
"  Ibid.  §  3,  c.  i. 


DEISTS  AND  THE  DEISTICAL  CONTEOVERSY  133 


commit  himself.  That  the  dogmatic  forms  in  which 
Christianity  was  expressed  had  often  no  clear  and  dis- 
tinct ideas  corresponding  to  them  he  sturdily  maintains ; 
but  whether  the  truths  which  lay  behind  these  dogmas, 
the  truths  which  represent  in  some  sense  the  very 
fundamentals  of  Christianity  itself,  whether  these  are 
liable  to  a  similar  reproach  he  carefully  abstains  from 
intimating.  Most  of  his  later  writings  would  certainly 
justify  the  view  that  he  held  that  they  were.  It  is  on 
the  point  that  there  are  no  truths  in  Christianity  which 
can  properly  be  described  as  above  reason  that  Butler 
in  the  Analogy  joins  issue  with  him.  Truths  in  Christi- 
anity contrary  to  reason,  he  says,  there  certainly  are  none. 
But,  as  a  result  of  the  limitations  of  human  powers, 
reason  is  necessarily  an  imperfect  judge  of  the  contents 
of  a  revelation,  as  distinct  from  the  evidence  by  which 
it  comes  recommended  to  us.  The  nature  of  God,  and 
His  thoughts  and  plans,  are  necessarily  themes  too  vast 
for  our  full  comprehension ;  they  do  not  admit  of  de- 
monstration, or  even  of  exact  definition,  in  the  same 
way  that  mathematical  ideas  and  mathematical  theorems 
do ;  in  trying  to  treat  them,  in  requiring  that  they 
should  be  treated  in  such  a  way,  we  are  simply  ignoring 
and  disregarding  the  actual  limitations  affixed  to  our 
human  powers. 

3.  It  seems  unjust  to  class  Dr.  Samuel  Clarke  as  a 
Deist.  He  would  himself  have  energetically  repudiated 
the  name ;  and  indeed  he  was  regarded  by  his  contem- 
poraries as  one  of  the  most  pronounced  and  successful 
opponents  of  the  Deistical  cause.  Nevertheless,  the 
rationalist  spirit  which  breathes  in  his  writings,  and  his 
entire  subordination  of  revelation  to  reason,  are  so  far 
in  harmony  with  the  prevailing  tendencies  of  the 
Deistical  writers  as  to  justify  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen  in 
looking  upon  his  works  as  marking  one  of  the  stages  in 
the  development  of  the  Deistical  mode  of  thought.  The 


134  BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AKD  WRITINGS 


writings  in  which  his  doctrines  are  most  systematically 
developed  are  the  two  series  of  Boyle  Lectures  delivered 
in  1704  and  1705.  The  first  of  these  was  designated 
"  A  Demonstration  of  the  Being  and  Attributes  of  God," 
the  second,  "  A  Discourse  concerning  the  Unalterable 
Obligations  of  Natural  Eeligion  and  the  Truth  and  Cer- 
tainty of  the  Christian  Eevelation."  In  the  former  of 
these  works  he  develops  his  thesis  in  twelve  propositions, 
supposed  to  be  as  irrefragable  and  as  closely  connected 
with  one  another  as  the  propositions  in  Euclid.  In  these 
it  is  shown  as  a  necessity  of  human  thought  that  God 
exists,  and  that  His  existence  is  independent  and  neces- 
sary; that  He  is  incomprehensible,  eternal,  infinite,  and 
one ;  that  He  is  intelligent,  and  so  not  a  necessary  agent, 
but  endowed  with  liberty  and  choice;  that  He  is  omiupo- 
tent,  infinitely  wise,  infinitely  good,  just,  and  true.^  This 
sort  of  proof,  even  if  it  is  satisfactorily  made  out, — and 
how  difficult  it  is  to  judge  of  this  may  be  gathered  from 
the  fact  that  Butler  in  his  earliest  pubhshed  writing, 
his  letters  to  Dr.  Clarke,  was  inclined  to  regard  two  of 
Clarke's  propositions  as  insufficiently  established,  and 
seems  to  have  remained  to  the  end  of  the  correspondence 
not  quite  satisfied  respecting  them, — has  at  best  extra- 
ordinarily little  hold  except  on  a  very  limited  class  of 
minds.  To  the  general  public  such  arguments  are  simply 
unintelligible ;  and  even  in  the  case  of  those  exceptional 
minds  to  which  they  appeal  they  are  of  very  little  avail 
to  stir  the  imagination  or  to  influence  the  conduct. 
And  moreover,  so  far  as  such  proofs  can  be  made  good, 
they  tend  to  render  any  special  revelation  unnecessary, 
and  so  to  make  its  actual  occurrence  improbable.  For 
in  other  matters,  where  the  light  of  reason  is  sufficient, 
God  does  not  seem  to  vouchsafe  to  men  any  special  or 
specially-given  knowledge  other  than  that  which  their 
natural  faculties,  properly  used,  can  supply. 

'  Demonstration,  Prop.  XII. 


DEISTS  AND  THE  DEISTICAL  CONTROVERSY  135 


It  is  the  difficulty  here  stated  that  Clarke  is  princi- 
pally concerned  to  meet  in  his  second  treatise.  But 
before  proceeding  to  attempt  an  answer  to  it  he  pro- 
poses to  define  more  exactly  those  with  whom  he- is  will- 
ing to  argue.  The  Deists  are  divided  into  four  classes. 
(1)  There  are  those  who  believe  in  an  eternal,  infinite, 
independent  intelligent  Being  who  created  the  world ; 
but  they  hold  that  His  action  was  restricted  to  the 
creation  of  a  certain  amount  of  matter,  and  force  or 
motion,  and  that  all  that  has  followed  has  been  the 
result  of  this  original  constitution.  God  made,  but  He 
does  not  govern,  the  world.  (2)  A  second  class  believe 
that  God  does  govern,  as  much  as  He  originally  created, 
the  world ;  but  they  recognise  no  essential  and  funda- 
mental distinction  between  right  and  wrong,  and  so  deny 
to  Him  moral  attributes.  (3)  The  third  class  recognise 
God's  government,  and  most  of  God's  moral  attributes, 
but  deny  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  consider  that 
God's  justice  and  goodness  may  be  different  in  kind 
from  those  of  men.  (4)  The  fourth  accept  all  that  the 
third  believe,  and  recognise  in  addition  all  the  obliga- 
tions of  morality  for  themselves,  and  the  presence  of 
moral  attributes  in  the  Divine  Nature.  They  are  Deists 
only  in  so  far  as  they  deny  the  need  for,  and  so  the 
possibility  of,  a  revelation.  It  is  to  these  last  alone 
that  Clarke  addresses  his  arguments.^  To  them  he 
makes  answer — First,  in  the  spirit  of  Locke,  that  a  re- 
velation is  necessary  to  supplement  and  ro-enforee  the 
light  of  nature.  All  the  fundamental  truths  of  religion, 
all  the  fundamental  obligations  of  morality,  can,  indeed, 
be  apprehended  by  the  light  of  nature  and  by  man's 
reason,  if  duly  exercised;  but  all  history  shows  how 
apt  men  are  not  to  exercise  their  reason,  and  how 
often  the  conclusions  of  pure  reason  are  perverted  by 
passion,  prejudice,  and  vice.     Men  need,  consequently, 

1  Unalterable  Obligations,  pp.  157-170. 


136  BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


some  better  and  clearer  light  than  that  of  reason  alone 
to  guide  them  on  their  way.  Such  being  the  need  of 
man,  it  becomes  at  least  probable  that  God  would  grant 
him  a  revelation  to  help  him  in  his  need.  And  then, 
secondly,  Clarke  held  that  God  does  many  things  out 
of  condescension  and  goodwill  to  man  which  the  laws 
of  His  nature,  so  to  speak,  fail  to  render  necessary  in 
Him.  These  are  acts  of  condescension  which  it  would 
be  impossible  to  predict  a  priori.  Clarke  takes  as  an  in- 
stance forgiveness  for  sia,  under  certain  circumstances, 
upon  repentance.  The  granting  of  a  revelation  may  be, 
he  urges,  among  such  acts  of  condescension.  In  the 
third  place,  if  it  be  objected,  as  it  often  is,  that  revela- 
tion has  been  restricted  to  a  comparatively  small 
portion  of  the  human  race,  and  has  not,  therefore,  that 
universality  and  wide  prevalence  which  we  should 
expect,  it  may  be  pointed  out  in  answer  that  men  differ, 
and  races  also,  even  in  their  power  of  reasoning ;  that 
many  races  have,  in  consequence,  failed  to  apprehend 
those  fundamental  truths  which  the  reason  of  man 
under  more  favourable  circumstances  is  fully  adequate 
to  grasp ; — all  men  are  not  equal,  even  in  their  reasoning 
powers,  nor  are  all  angels ;  and  if  there  be  inequaUty 
in  this  way  in  the  light  of  nature,  there  seems  no 
reason  why  there  should  not  be  inequahty  also  in  the 
amount  of  revelation  which  God  vouchsafes  to  different 
men. 

By  these  arguments  Clarke  contends  that,  though  he 
may  not  have  succeeded  in  establishing  the  grant  of  a 
revelation  as  a  necessary  truth  of  reason,  yet  he  has  made 
it  exceedingly  probable  that  a  revelation  should  be  given, 
or  at  anyrate  has  taken  away  all  grounds  for  objecting 
to  its  possibihty.  One  cannot,  however,  but  feel,  as 
Mr.  Leslie  Stephen  points  out,^  that  for  one  who  imder- 
takes  to  exhibit  all  the  fundamental  truths  of  religion 

'  English  Thought,  vol.  i.  p.  128. 


DEISTS  AND  THE  DEISTICAL  CONTROVERSY  137 


as  demonstrative  propositions,  based  on  the  necessary 
postulates  of  the  human  intellect,  a  special  revelation 
does  become  in  a  great  measure  superfluous,  and  its 
possibility  has  to  be  defended  by  rather  special  plead- 
ings; while,  if  the  granting  of  a  revelation  is  made 
itself  a  part  of  the  necessary  system,  it  seems  hard  to 
understand  how  revelation  should  have  been  so  frag- 
mentary, and  have  extended  to  so  comparatively  minute 
a  portion  of  the  whole  human  race.  It  is  because 
Clarke's  system  thus  adapts  itself  naturally  to  the 
Deist  position  that  Mr.  Stephen,  in  spite  of  Clarke's 
strenuous  opposition  to  contemporary  Deism,  has,  per- 
haps not  unfairly,  classed  him  among  the  Deistical 
writers,  and  assigned  him  the  name  of  a  Christian 
Deist.  ^ 

With  Clarke's  was  generally  associated  the  name 
of  Wollaston,  who  agrees  with  him  in  the  supremacy 
which  he  ascribes  to  human  reason,  in  regarding 
the  fundamental  propositions  both  of  religion  and 
morality  as  demonstrative,  in  attaching  to  revelation  a 
comparatively  subordinate  character,  and  in  construct- 
ing a  moral  system  on  a  purely  intellectual  basis.  The 
point  in  which  the  system  of  Wollaston  most  differs 
from  that  of  Clarke  is  in  the  prominence  the  former 
gives  to  the  pain  and  misery  observable  in  the  universe  at 
large,  and  more  especially  in  human  life;  and  in  the 
stress  which  he  lays  upon  this  point  as  enforcing  the 
doctrine  of  a  future  life  as  needed  to  redress  the  balance 
of  virtue  and  happiness,  which  seems  often  so  grievously 
upset  in  our  present  state  of  existence. 

4.  Tindal's  work,  Christianity  as  old  as  the  Creation, 
is  generally  regarded  as  representing  the  culminating 
point  in  the  Deist  controversy.^    In  it  the  breach  be- 

1  English  Tho\i(jht,  vol.  i.  p.  129. 

2  It  was  published  in  1730,  six  years  before  the  appearance  of  the 
Analogy. 


138  BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


tween  Deism  and  Christianity,  between  reason  and 
faith,  had  become  final  and  complete.  Tindal,  indeed, 
still  continued  to  speak  of  himself  as  a  Christian  Deist, 
but  in  what  sense  he  was  a  Christian  it  is  hard  to  see. 
No  place  was  left  for  revelation  in  his  system,  and  he 
derided  and  denounced  the  most  distinctively  Christian 
doctrines.  The  main  points  on  which  he  insisted  are 
these, — God  is  perfectly  just,  wise,  good,  and  immut- 
able ;  man's  nature  also  never  varies.  It  follows, 
therefore,  that  the  law  which  God  lays  down  for  man 
will  be  perfect  and  unalterable.^  This  law  is  appre- 
hended, or  is  capable  of  being  apprehended,  by  the 
reason  and  conscience  of  mankind.  It  is  through 
these,  that  is,  by  the  light  of  nature,  that  God  makes 
His  will  known  to  men.  But  if  this  is  so,  what  place 
is  there  for  any  special  revelation,  or  still  more  for  any 
set  of  positive  precepts,  over  and  above  the  law  which, 
at  the  creation,  God  divulged  to  man's  reason  ?  What 
is  true  in  revelation  can  thus  only  be  a  mere  republi- 
cation of  the  law  of  nature,  for  natural  and  revealed 
religion  differ  not  in  their  substance  but  in  their  mode 
of  communication ;  "  the  one  being  the  internal,  the 
other  the  external,  revelation  of  the  will  of  a  Being  who 
is  alike  at  all  times  infinitely  wise  and  good."  -  Thus 
revelation  is  shown  to  be  superfluous;  but  it  is  also 
incredible.  To  suppose  it  had  been  given  would  be 
to  suppose  that  God  had  favourites  among  mankind ; 
and  to  suppose  this  would  be  to  deny  God's  justice. 
And  how  impossible  is  it  to  think  that  the  all-wise  and 
all-powerful  Maker  of  the  universe  should  have  com- 
municated the  knowledge  of  Himself  and  of  His  law  to 
one  small  barbarous  tribe  inhabiting  a  remote  corner  of 
this  earth.  Further,  if  reason  be  the  supreme  test  by 
which  the  truth  or  falsity  of  all  systems  is  to  be 

^  Leslie  Stephen,  English  Thought,  voL  i.  cliap.  iii.  p.  136,  and 
Overton.  2  Ibid.  p.  138. 


DEISTS  AND  THE  DEISTICAL  CONTROVERSY  139 


measured,  then  any  so-called  revelation  must  itself  be 
tried  before  the  tribunal  of  reason.  But  the  doctrines 
of  Judaism  and  Christianity,  tested  by  the  principles  of 
reason,  are  both  alike  pronounced  to  be  defective.  Many 
absurd  regulations  were,  under  the  Mosaic  system,  laid 
down  for  the  conduct  of  life,  circumcision  among  the 
rest.  Some  commands,  reported  in  the  Old  Testament 
to  be  given  by  God  Himself  to  the  chosen  people,  e.g. 
the  extermination  of  the  tribes  of  Canaan,  must  be 
pronounced  immoral.  Even  the  central  doctrines  of 
Christianity,  the  Incarnation  and  Atonement,  though 
obhquely  glanced  at,  are  sufficiently  clearly  hinted  to 
be  unreasonable,  and  so  untenable.  Nor  can  it  be 
maintained  that  revelation,  judged  by  its  fruits,  has 
been  so  productive  of  good  results  that  men  are  bound 
to  accept  it  on  that  score.  The  Jews,  who  were  sup- 
posed to  have  had  a  revelation,  were,  on  Tindal's  view, 
far  less  moral  than  the  Chinese,  who  had  none  and 
were  content  to  live  by  the  light  of  nature  alone.  Nor 
will  he  even  allow  any  moral  superiority  over  their 
predecessors  to  Christians  and  those  who  live  under 
the  Christian  dispensation.  "  What  impartial  man,"  he 
asks,  "  who  has  compared  the  former  and  present  con- 
dition of  mankind,  can  think  the  world  much  mended 
since  the  time  of  Tiberius ;  or,  though  so  ever  well 
versed  in  Church  history,  can,  from  the  conduct  of 
Christians,  find  that  they  arrive  to  any  higher  state  of 
perfection  than  the  rest  of  mankind,  who  are  supposed 
to  continue  in  their  degeneracy  and  corruption  ? "  ^ 

Probably,  both  in  the  first  part  and  in  the  second 
part  of  the  Analogy,  Butler  had  Tindal  and  his  book 
more  directly  in  view  than  any  other  of  his  opponents. 
Christianity  as  old  as  the  Creation  had  been  published 
only  six  years  before  the  Analogy  appeared.  And  as 
the  Analogy  was  an  answer  from  the  Christian  side  to 

'  Christianity  as  old  as  the  Creation,  p.  366  ;  quoted  by  Leslie  Stephen. 


140  BISHOP  BUTLER  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


the  whole  Deistical  controversy,  so  far  as  it  had  then 
proceeded ;  and  as  Tindal's  work  may  be  regarded  as  the 
fullest  presentation  of  the  whole  Deistical  case,  it  was 
only  natural  that  many  of  Butler's  arguments  should 
be  a  direct  reply  to  Tindal's  positions. 

What,  then,  is  the  general  character  of  the  answer 
which  Butler  gives  ?  It  is  this.  Tindal  has,  he  says, 
entirely  mistaken  the  nature  and  limitations  of  human 
reason.  Not  only  are  the  contents  of  what  claims  to 
be  the  historical  revelation  different  from  what  reason 
would,  unaided  by  revelation,  have  arrived  at :  con- 
taining truths  which  reason  could  not  have  discovered, 
and  giving  rise  to  duties  which  reason  could  not  have 
recognised ;  but  reason  is  incapable  of  judging  a  priori 
what  the  course  of  God's  actions  in  His  dealings  with 
man  would  be  likely  to  be.  God's  thoughts  cannot  be 
as  our  thoughts,  nor  His  ways  as  our  ways.  The  limi- 
tations to  human  knowledge  are  so  real  and  so  great ; 
we  can  see  such  a  little  way  into  the  whole  plan  and 
scheme  of  things ;  and  where  we  can  apprehend  only 
so  small  a  part  of  the  whole  plan,  we  apprehend  that 
there  must  necessarily  be  many  things  that  will  appear 
strange  and  unintelligible  to  us  in  what  we  can  see; 
and  it  must  then  be  the  height  of  presumption  as  well 
as  of  folly  in  us  to  attempt  to  lay  down  arbitrary 
conclusions  as  to  the  methods  of  God's  workings,  the 
character  of  His  dealings  with  men,  or  the  modes  in 
which  He  shall,  and  in  which  He  shall  not,  reveal 
Himself  and  make  Himself  known.^  In  conclusion, 
Butler  points  out  that  the  past  history  and  present 
condition  of  the  heathen  world  shows  a  revelation  not 
to  be  superfluous.^ 

5.  Tindal  was  the  most  systematic  of  the  Deists. 
In  him  are  combined,  what  are  generally  kept  distinct 
in  other  Deistical  writers,  attacks  upon  the  external 
'  Analogy,  il.  chaps,  iii.  and  iv.  -  Ibid.  ii.  chap.  i. 


DEISTS  AND  THE  DEISTICAL  CONTKOVEESY  141 


evidence  for,  and  on  the  internal  credibility  of,  Chris- 
tianity. It  was  to  attacks  on  the  external  evidence  that 
his  successors  mainly  devoted  themselves.  The  critical 
vein  in  Deism  was  indeed  almost  as  old  as  its  earliest 
appearance.  Charles  Blount,  before  the  end  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  had,  in  a  book  entitled  The  Oracles 
of  Reason,  attempted  to  throw  ridicule  on  some  of  the 
Old  Testament  miracles,  on  the  story  of  the  Fall,  and 
perhaps  (by  a  life  which  he  published  of  ApoUonius  of 
Tyana)  on  the  New  Testament  miracles  as  well.  This 
work,  not  very  important  in  itself  except  as  a  kind 
of  harbinger  of  much  that  was  to  follow,  was  answered 
by  Leslie's  Short  and  Easy  Method  with  the  Deists. 
In  this  he  attempted  (I  think  with  some  success)  to 
suggest  certain  plain  and  obvious  tests  by  which  the 
historical  credibility  of  considerable  portions  of  the 
Old  Testament,  as  well  as  the  main  facts  of  the  New 
Testament,  might  be  established.  But  the  real  assault 
upon  Christianity  on  the  critical  side  came  from 
Collins.  This  author,  in  a  book  entitled  A  Discourse 
on  Freethinking,  occasioned  by  the  Rise  and  Growth  of  a 
Sect  called  Freethinkers}  tried  to  demonstrate  not  only 
the  advantages  which  resulted  from  the  submission  of 
every  question,  theological  or  other,  to  free  inquiry ; 
but  also  that  when  any  question  has  been  so  sub- 
mitted the  decision  has  always  been  against  super- 
naturalism.  In  this  contention  he  was  opposed  by 
Beutley,  who  showed  that  the  decay  of  the  belief  in 
supernaturaUsm  (so  far  as  it  could  be  established  as  a 
fact)  was  due  not  to  the  spread  of  Deism,  but  to  the 
growth  of  science;  and  that,  among  philosophers  and 
men  of  science,  the  majority  had  been  themselves  firm 
believers.  To  another  contention  of  ColHns's,  that  the 
number  of  various  readings  in  the  New  Testament, 
which  Dr.  Mills  had  recently  brought  to  light,  disproved 

1  Published  iii  1713. 


142  BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


the  trustworthiness,  or  at  anyrate  the  verbal  accuracy, 
of  the  text,  Bentley  further  answered  that,  in  accordance 
with  well-known  principles  of  criticism,  a  text  suffi- 
ciently accurate  for  all  practical  purposes  could  be 
determined ;  that,  in  any  case,  the  variations  alleged 
were  not  of  a  kind  seriously  to  affect  the  sense  or 
trustworthiness  of  the  writings  as  a  whole.  Bentley 's 
answer  to  Collins  was  generally  accepted  as  final  and 
satisfactory ;  nor  do  the  latter's  writings  seem  to  have 
carried  great  weight.  They  were  important  only  as 
indicative  of  a  temper  which  was  perpetually  spreading 
— the  temper  which  required  Christianity  to  justify 
itself  at  the  bar  of  reason,  as  to  both  its  internal  con- 
tents and  also  its  external  attestation. 

Foiled  in  this  attack,  ColUns  renewed  his  onslaught 
on  Christianity  at  a  later  date  in  another  direction. 
Whiston,  a  Cambridge  divine  of  a  rather  harebrained 
kind,  but  a  good  man  and  a  friend  of  Edward  Talbot, 
had  attempted  to  show  that  the  prophecies  quoted  in 
the  New  Testament  could  not  be  brought  into  harmony 
with  the  text  of  the  Old  Testament  as  we  at  present 
possess  it ;  and  he  proceeded  to  amend  the  Old  Testa- 
ment text  by  the  aid  of  certain  ancient  versions  and 
paraphrases,  so  that  it  could  be  brought  into  such 
accord  with  the  New  Testament  applications  of  it 
as  to  exhibit  a  rigid  and  literal  fulfilment.  It  is  on 
the  foundation  laid  by  Whiston  tliat  Collins  proceeds 
to  build.  In  his  book,  entitled  A  Discourse  of  the 
Grounds  and  Reasons  of  the  Christian  Religion}  he 
attempts  to  show,  first,  that  prophecy  and  its  fulfilment 
are,  and  have  always  been,  admitted  to  be  the  chief 
among  the  credentials  of  Christianity ;  and  secondly, 
that  this  credential  proves  practically  valueless  unless 
recourse  is  had  either  to  some  system  of  excision  and 
insertion  such  as  Whiston  had  practised,  and  a  certain 

1  Published  in  1726. 


DEISTS  AND  THE  DEISTICAL  CONTEOVERSY  143 


learned  Dutchmau  imiaed  Surenbusius  had  carried  to 
greater  and  more  extravagant  lengths  ;  or  to  a  system  of 
allegorising,  by  the  help  of  which  the  prophecies  might 
be  made  to  mean  anything  at  all.  In  either  case  the 
prophecies  were,  of  course,  deprived  of  all  evidential 
value  whatsoever. 

After  the  attack  on  prophecy  came  one  on  miracles. 
Collins  had  promised  "  A  Discourse  upon  the  Miracles 
of  the  Old  and  New  Testament,"  but  did  not  actually 
execute  it.  His  work  was  taken  up  by  Thomas  Wool- 
ston,  a  fellow  of  Sidney  Sussex  College,  Cambridge. 
Woolstou's  Six  Discourses  on  the  Miracles  of  orir  Saviour 
appeared  in  the  years  1727-1729,  some  seven  years 
before  the  publication  of  the  Analogy.  If  Whiston 
was  harebrained,  Woolston  seems  to  have  been  down- 
right crazy.  He  applies  to  miracles  the  method  which 
Collins  had  proposed  to  apply  to  prophecy.  He  first 
attempts  to  show,  or  perhaps  it  would  bo  more  proper  to 
say  assumes,  that  the  accounts  of  the  Gospel  miracles 
cannot  be  accepted  as  narratives  of  simple  matter  of 
fact,  and  proposes,  therefore,  to  treat  them  as  mere 
allegories.  His  contention  is  "  that  the  narratives  of 
these  miracles  are  on  the  face  of  them  preposterous. 
They  are  so  grotesque  that  to  listen  gravely  to  their 
recital  "  exceeds  all  power  of  face."  Such  a  contention, 
enforced  as  Woolston  enforced  it,  with  every  kind  of 
ribaldry  and  profaneness,  did  not  constitute  any  very 
serious  criticism  on  the  Gospel  history.  His  work 
served  partly  to  wing  some  of  the  epigrams  which 
were,  as  we  learn  from  Butler,  bandied  about  in  the 
drawing-rooms  and  the  club-houses  of  the  society  of 
the  time ;  partly,  as  it  was  directed  not  at  the  con- 
nection between  the  two  Testaments,  and  the  support 
which  one  was  supposed  to  yield  to  the  other,  but  at 
the  very  essence  of  the  Gospel  itself,  it  forced  men 
to  consider  under  what  conditions  miracles  might  be 


144  BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


regarded  as  possible,  and  therefore  credible, — a  question 
to  the  solution  of  which  Butler  contributed  one  chapter 
in  the  second  part  of  the  Analogy. 

It  is  clear  from  the  above  review  of  the  chief  phases 
through  which  the  controversy  had  passed  that  the 
time  had  come  when  the  whole  Christian  case  required  to 
be  restated,  and  the  argument  in  defence  of  Christianity- 
presented  as  one  connected  and  consistent  whole.  As 
Butler  clearly  saw,  it  was  comparatively  easy  to  make 
out  an  effective  onslaught  on  this  or  that  particular 
side  or  aspect  of  Christianity  taken  in  isolation  from 
the  rest;  and  an  unreal  appearance  of  victory  might 
thus  be  brought  about.  But  things  presented  them- 
selves in  a  very  diiferent  light  when  all  the  parts 
were  viewed  in  their  relation  to  one  another,  and  the 
whole  argument  was  set  forth  in  all  its  completeness. 
The  apparent  victory  would  then  be  often  seen  to  be 
converted  into  an  actual  defeat.  It  was  this  task 
which  Butler  essayed  in  the  Analogy.  His  object 
was  to  present  in  its  entirety  the  whole  connected 
case,  as  it  appeared  to  his  mind,  for  Christianity  as 
a  complete  scheme.  His  method  was,  as  he  tells  one 
of  his  correspondents,  to  consider,  as  he  went  along, 
each  possible  formidable  objection  that  could  be 
brought  against  the  position  he  was  considering;  and 
to  frame,  in  the  Light  of  the  whole,  the  best  answer 
that  could  be  made  to  it.  The  objections  which  he 
puts  into  the  mouths  of  his  opponents  are,  as  all  his 
most  candid  critics  admit,  never  unreal ;  nor  are  the 
answers  which  he  makes  to  them  imreal  either.  They 
are  always  weighty  and  well  considered;  and  at  the 
end  he  does  not  claim  to  have  done  more  than  he 
has  actually  accomplished.  The  proof  which  he  has 
offei'ed  is,  he  admits,  "  not  demonstrative ;  it  is  not 
offered  as  such,  but  it  amounts  to  a  really  conclusive 
practical  proof,  and  one  impossible,"  so  he  thinks,  "  to 


DEISTS  AND  THE  DEISTICAL  CONTEOVERSY  145 


be  evaded  or  answered."  "  Heuce,  therefore,  may  be 
observed  distinctly  what  is  the  force  of  this  treatise. 
It  will  be  to  those  who  are  convinced  of  religion,  on 
proof  arising  out  of  liberty  and  moral  fitness,  an 
additional  proof  and  a  confirmation  of  it ;  to  such 
as  do  not  admit  these  principles,  an  original  proof  of 
it,  and  a  confirmation  of  that  proof.  Those  who  believe 
will  here  find  the  scheme  of  Christianity  cleared  of 
objections,  and  the  evidence  of  it  in  a  peculiar  manner 
strengthened;  those  who  do  not  believe  will  at  least 
be  shown  the  absurdity  of  all  attempts  to  prove 
Christianity  false,  the  plain  undoubted  credibility  of 
it,  and  I  hope  a  good  deal  more."i  How  far  the 
claims  here  advanced  are  justified  we  must  now  pro- 
ceed to  consider  by  a  review  of  the  main  arguments 
of  the  Analogy  itself. 

1  Analogy,  ii.  viii.  §§  26,  27. 


CHAPTER  V 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PART  I 

The  Analogy  was  published  in  1736.  Butler  had  been 
made  chaplain  to  Lord  Chancellor  Talbot  some  three 
years  previously;  but  it  was  only  earlier  in  the  year 
in  which  the  Analogy  appeared  that  he  had  been 
introduced  to  Queen  Caroline,  made  Clerk  of  the 
Closet  by  her,  and  in\dted  to  attend  those  gatherings 
of  distinguished  men  for  philosophical  discussion  in 
which  the  Queen  so  greatly  delighted.  This  mere 
statement  of  the  dates  seems  to  dispose  of  a  suggestion, 
originally  put  forward  by  Mr.  Pattison  and  adopted 
by  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold,  that  the  Analogy  represents 
the  replies,  thought  out  and  co-ordinated  by  Butler, 
to  the  objections  which  he  had  heard  taken  to  Chris- 
tianity in  the  Queen's  philosophical  parties.  The  germs, 
moreover,  of  the  thoughts  worked  out  in  the  Analogy, 
and  even  its  central  position,  are  to  be  found  in 
one  at  least  of  the  sermons  published  ten  years 
previously;^  and  this  latter  book,  as  he  tells  us 
himself,  was  composed  gradually,  and  represents  the 
results  of  the  labours  of  many  years.  The  whole 
work  strikes  us,  indeed,  as  like  some  great  edifice  raised 
with  infinite  pains  and  toil,  every  stone  and  brick  of 
which  has  been  carefully  fitted  into  its  place,  and 
tested  and  rung  to  see  if  it  will  bear  the  strain  which 
has  been  placed  upon  it.    But  while  tliis  is  so,  the 

'  Sermon  XV.,  "  On  the  Ignorance  of  Man." 

146 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PART  I 


147 


suggestion  contains  this  much  truth — that  the  objec- 
tions which  in  the  course  of  his  work  Butler  considers 
and  meets  are  not  mere  fanciful  objections,  but  those 
actually  current  at  the  time,  objections  which  might 
be  heard  any  day  paraded  in  the  coflee-house  or 
advanced  in  the  drawing-room.  Butler  in  his  Durham 
Charge  reminds  his  clergy  how  easily  they  might  be 
called  upon  to  defend  their  position,  or  to  take  a 
part  in  religious  controversy,  even  in  the  innocent 
social  gatherings  which  they  attended ;  and  he  gives 
them  some  excellent  advice  as  to  how  to  conduct 
themselves  should  the  occasion  arise."  It  was  indeed, 
as  Mr.  Pattison  points  out,  the  distinctive  feature 
of  the  Deistical  controversy  that  it  was  essentially 
popular,  —  popular,  that  is,  not  among  the  masses 
(though  certain  echoes  of  it  reverberating  among  them 
tended  to  that  weakening  of  the  religious  sanction 
and  that  general  relaxation  of  morals  of  which  con- 
temporary writers  so  frequently  complain),  —  but 
among  the  average  run  of  educated  people  who 
make  the  reading  pubUc,  and  whose  sentiments  and 
thoughts  we  find  reflected  in  the  literature  of  the 
time.  Among  such  as  these  scepticism,  based  upon 
the  objections  which  the  Deists  had  propounded,  had 
spread  very  far;  so  far  that,  as  Butler  puts  it  in 
his  Advertisement :  "  It  is  come,  I  know  not  how, 
to  be  taken  for  granted  by  many  persons  that 
Christianity  is  not  so  much  as  a  subject  of  inquiry ; 
but  that  it  is  now  at  length  discovered  to  be  fictitious. 
And  accordingly  they  treat  it,  as  if  in  the  present 
age  this  were  an  agreed  point  among  all  people  of 
discernment ;  and  nothing  remained  but  to  set  it  up 
as  a  principal  subject  of  mirth  and  ridicule,  as  it 
were  by  way  of  reprisals,  for  its  having  so  long  in- 
terrupted the  pleasures  of  the  world.  On  the  contrary, 
thus  much  at  least  will  be  here  found  not  taken  for 


148  BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


granted  but  proved,  that  any  reasonable  man  who 
will  thoroughly  consider  the  matter  may  be  as  much 
assured  as  he  is  of  his  own  being  that  it  is  not, 
however,  so  clear  a  case  that  there  is  nothing  in  it."  ^ 

But  while  Butler  thus  made  it  his  principal  object 
to  meet  those  objections  which  had  become,  so  to 
speak,  current  coin,  and  which  seemed  to  him  directly 
to  lead  to  or  encourage  that  moral  indifference  or 
profligacy  which  were  observable  everywhere  around 
him,  he  by  no  means  neglects  those  more  subtle  and 
elaborate  arguments  which  were  to  be  found  in  the 
numerous  Deistical  publications  of  the  day,  and  frames 
his  answer  in  such  a  way  as  to  refute  these  no  less 
than  the  more  popular  contentions.  Among  both 
classes  of  objectors,  as  among  Unitarians  at  the  present 
time,  there  were  many  kinds  and  degi-ees  of  unbelief. 
Clarke  distinguished,  as  we  have  already  noticed,  four 
distinct  classes  of  professed  Deists,  varying  from  those 
who  were  all  but  acknowledged  atheists  on  the  one 
hand,  to  those  who  were  scarcely  distinguishable  from 
liberal  Churchmen  on  the  other ;  ^  and  there  seems 
to  have  been  much  the  same  diversity  in  the  different 
phases  of  popular  opinion  as  in  the  writings  of  the 
more  learned.  But  amid  all  this  diversity  there  was 
one  point  on  which  all  were  pretty  well  agreed,  a 
point  which  Butler  therefore  feels  himself  justified 
in  assuming  or  taking  for  granted,  namely,  that  the 
universe  was  created  and  its  laws  ordered  by  a  reason- 
able, all-wise,  and  all-powerful  God.  Some,  like  Locke, 
Clarke  himself,  and  many  others,  held  that  this  belief 
was  a  demonstrable  truth,  derivable  du-ectly  fi'om  the 
most  certain  and  most  unquestionable  principles  of 
our  nature ;  others,  not  admitting  this,  still  considered 
that  on  grounds  of  common  sense  it  was  a  conclusion 
which  it  was  reasonable  to  accept.  This  admission, 
'  Advertisement  to  Analogy.  -See  last  Chapter,  pp.  134,  135. 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PART  I  149 


common  ground  to  himself  and  his  opponents,  is  the 
point  from  which  the  Analogy  starts.  Behind  this 
fundamental  belief  Butler  does  not  care  to  go;  nor, 
indeed,  was  it  necessary  for  him  to  do  so.  It  was 
obviously  superfluous  to  convince  opponents  on  a  point 
on  which  they  confessed  themselves  to  be  convinced 
already.  What  the  Analogy  then  attempts  to  do  is 
this :  assuming  this  position  as  admitted,  it  asks.  What 
light  does  the  constitution  of  the  universe,  the  order 
of  things  actually  revealed  in  experience,  throw  on 
the  character  of  the  God  who  has  made  and  governs 
it  ?  How  far  do  our  faculties  enable  us  to  judge  of 
His  character  and  plan  ?  By  what  actual  or  natural 
limitations  are  our  judgments  on  such  points  circum- 
scribed ?  How  far,  again,  do  we  find  objections  pre- 
senting themselves  against  the  wisdom  and  goodness 
of  God  in  the  course  of  nature  analogous  to  those 
which  are  urged,  first,  against  the  truths  set  forth  by 
natural  religion,  and  then  against  those  contained  in 
God's  alleged  revelation  to  man  ?  How  far,  here 
again,  is  our  power  of  judging  limited  ?  Must  there 
not  here  also,  in  consequence  of  the  limitation  of 
our  powers,  be  difficulties  and  things  open  to 
exception  ?  In  thus  attacking  the  problem  from  the 
side  of  fact,  of  nature  and  experience,  Butler  was 
adopting  what  was  practically  a  new  method  in 
theology.  He  had,  as  has  been  ali'eady  pointed  out, 
introduced  a  similar  change  in  the  sphere  of  moral 
philosophy.  In  place  of  the  attempts  which  had  been 
made  by  previous  writers  on  the  orthodox  side  to 
set  morality  on  a  demonstrative  basis,  he  had  proposed 
to  establish  it  and  to  show  its  obligatoriness  from  a 
consideration  of  the  facts  of  human  nature  and  man's 
position  in  the  world.  Now  in  the  Analogy,  in  place 
of  the  demonstrations  which  Clarke  and  others  had 
produced  that  God  exists,  that  He  is  all-powerful  and 


150  BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


all-wise,  and  so  must  be  good  and  act  in  such  and 
such  ways, — demonstrations  which  really  convinced 
but  few  people  (for  but  few  could  follow  them) ;  and 
convinced,  perhaps,  no  one  who  was  not  on  other 
grounds  prepared  to  admit  these  conclusions, — Butler 
proposed  to  gain  views  about  God  from  a  consideration 
of  what  He  revealed  Himself  to  be  in  nature,  and  in 
the  familiar  facts  of  everyday  life ;  while  he  would 
test  the  probability  of  the  account  of  His  natui'e  and 
will,  which  was  presented  to  us  in  what  claimed  to 
be  a  revelation  (or  rather,  a  series  of  revelations)  pur- 
porting to  come  from  Him,  from  their  resemblance, 
or  want  of  resemblance,  to  what  may  be  gathered 
about  Him  from  the  ways  and  course  of  nature.  And 
here,  perhaps,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  the  term 
"  nature  "  is  used  by  Butler  in  a  somewhat  wider  sense 
than  that  which  nowadays  we  ordinarily  attach  to  it. 
When  we  speak  of  nature  we  mean  principally  or 
exclusively  the  physical  facts  and  laws  of  the  material 
world,  the  laws  of  man's  physical  environment  as  they  are 
now  often  called ;  but  Butler  comprehends  under  the 
term  nature,  in  addition  to  physical  laws,  those  arrange- 
ments and  ordinances  of  human  society  which  grow 
up  spontaneously  and  without  any  conscious  exercise 
of  man's  deliberation  and  will.  Thus  he  speaks  of 
the  infliction  of  punishment  by  society  on  certain  acts 
or  crimes,  and  even  of  the  ill-will  and  displeasm-e  with 
which  men  generally  regard  the  commission  of  such 
acts,  as  part  of  the  "  natural  order  " ;  as  being,  he  holds, 
as  truly  part  of  that  order  as  are  the  laws  according 
to  which  chemical  elements  combine,  or  bodies,  when 
left  to  themselves,  fall  to  the  ground.  The  argument 
as  thus  presented  is,  as  Butler  admits,  and  indeed 
insists,  nothing  but  a  probable  argimient,  an  argument 
from  probability ;  but  in  all  practical  affairs  we  have 
so  constantly  to  consider  and  weigh  probabilities  that 


THE  "analogy,"  part  I  151 

probability  may  be  described  as  the  very  "guide  of 
life."  Nor  does  the  fact  that  the  probability  may  even 
be  a  very  slight  one  absolve  us  in  practical  matters  from 
the  obligation  of  acting  in  accordance  with  it.  It  is 
often  the  very  essence  of  prudence  and  of  good  sense 
in  the  conduct  of  our  affairs  that  we  act  in  such  a 
way  as  the  well-considered  probabilities  of  the  case, 
however  slight  these  be,  dictate  ;  and  if  we  also  act 
in  matters  where  religion  and  our  future  interests  are 
at  stake  on  a  similar  estimate  even  of  slight  prob- 
abilities, we  are  at  least  following  in  the  steps  of 
that  prudence,  the  exhibition  of  which  is  so  much 
praised  and  so  highly  prized  in  the  affairs  of  this  life. 

With  this  method  of  arguing  from  analogy,  of  de- 
termining what  God's  course  is  likely  to  be  from  the 
consideration  of  the  acknowledged  facts  of  nature  and 
the  experience  of  everyday  life,  Butler  contrasts  another 
method  much  in  vogue  in  his  day.  This,  assuming  that 
God  ought  to  desire  such  and  such  ends  {e.g.  the  greatest 
happiness  of  all  His  creatures,  or  their  greatest  virtue, 
or  some  coincidence  or  combination  of  the  two) ;  and 
assuming,  further,  that  these  ends  can  only  be  brought 
about  by  such  and  such  means,  or  that  these  are  the 
best  means  by  which  they  can  be  brought  about,  pro- 
ceeds to  criticise  the  existing  order  of  the  world  and 
the  contents  of  revelation  from  the  point  of  view  of 
these  assumptions.  But  inasmuch  as  we  have  not  the 
faculties  which  would  enable  us  to  apprehend  clearly 
and  certainly  either  the  ends  at  which  God  must  aim ; 
or  the  means  by  which  He  must  or  can  best  attain  these 
ends ;  and  since  at  best  we  can  possibly  know  only  a 
very  small  part  of  His  whole  scheme  and  plan,  such 
speculations  are  necessarily  futile,  and  are  only  too  apt 
to  be  misleading  and  false.  Being  themselves  un- 
warrantable assumptions,  they  furnish  no  sufficient 
basis  for  useful  criticism. 


152  BISHOP  BUTLEK:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WETTINGS 


The  conclusion  which  by  his  method  Butler  proposes 
to  establish  is  this,  that  if  we  take  the  following  eleven 
propositions  to  represent,  the  first  five  of  them  the 
principal  truths  of  natural,  the  last  six  the  chief  truths 
of  revealed  religion,  we  shall  find  that  the  objections 
which  are  taken  to  each  one  of  these  positions  are 
strictly  analogous  to,  and  may  be  paralleled  by,  objec- 
tions which  might  be  alleged  against  similar  points 
occurring  in  the  course  and  order  of  nature.  But  these 
objections  are  admitted  by  the  Deists  themselves,  and 
by  their  followers,  not  to  be  conclusive  to  disprove  the 
Divine  origin  and  Divine  ordering  of  the  natural  world. 
It  follows,  then,  that  similar  objections  should  not  be 
regarded  as  furnishing  valid  disproofs  either  of  the 
Divine  origin  of  natm-al  religion,  or  of  the  truths  of 
revelation  either. 

With  regard  to  natural  religion,  Butler's  chief  points 
are  the  following : — (1)  That  mankind  is  appointed  to 
live  in  a  future  state.  (2)  That  in  that  state  everyone 
shall  be  rewarded  or  punislied.  (3)  That  each  will  be 
rewarded  or  punished  respectively  for  all  that  behaviour 
here  which  we  comprehend  under  the  words  virtuous 
or  vicious,  morally  good  or  morally  evil.  (4)  That  our 
present  life  is  a  probation,  a  state  of  trial  and  of 
discipline  for  that  future  one.  (5)  That  the  objections 
which  are  brought  against  such  a  doctrine  from  our 
actions  being  supposed  to  be  necessary  have,  and  can 
have,  no  practical  value ;  while  those  which  are  urged 
against  it,  on  the  grounds  that  such  a  scheme  is  not  in 
accordance  with  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  God,  are 
sufficiently  answered  by  the  consideration  that  the  plan 
is  only  imperfectly  and  partially  made  known  to  us  at 
present.  In  the  second  part  of  the  Analogy,  which 
deals  with  the  truths  of  revealed  religion,  the  truths 
passed  under  review  are, — that  this  world  being  in  a 
state  of  apostasy  and  wickedness,  and  consequently  of 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PAET  I  153 


ruin,  and  the  sense  both  of  their  condition  and  duty- 
being  greatly  corrupted  amongst  men,  this  gave  occasion 
for  an  additional  dispensation  of  providence  which  is 
(1)  of  the  utmost  importance  ;  (2)  proved  by  miracles ; 
(3)  but  yet  contains  in  it  many  things  appearing  to  us 
strange  and  not  to  have  been  expected ;  (4)  this  dis- 
pensation is  further  a  scheme  or  system  of  things 
carried  on  by  the  mediation  of  a  Divine  Person,  the 
Messiah,  in  order  to  the  recovery  of  the  world  ;  (5) 
yet  it  has  not  been  revealed  to  all  men,  nor  proved 
with  the  strongest  possible  evidence  to  all  those  to 
whom  it  is  revealed;  (6)  but  only  to  such  a  part  of 
mankind,  and  with  such  particular  evidence  as  the 
wisdom  of  God  thought  fit.^ 

It  is  obvious  that  in  the  treatment  of  the  subject 
here  sketched  the  whole  method  of  defence  is  negative 
rather  than  positive, — that  is  to  say,  it  is,  and  is  de- 
signed to  be,  an  answer  to  objections  taken  to  these 
different  positions,  rather  than  a  positive  exposition  of 
their  truth  ;  yet  inasmuch  as  when  Butler  wrote,  it  was 
these  objections  partly  urged  by  professed  Deists,  partly 
started  in  the  habitual  round  of  social  intercourse, 
which  were  so  largely  undermining  men's  faith ;  it  is 
doubtful  whether  he  could  have  found  a  more  effectual 
line  of  defence  than  that  which  he  has  adopted.  Two 
great  merits  calculated  to  give  it  no  merely  temporary 
but  a  permanent  value  we  may  in  any  case  claim  for  the 
Analogy — (1)  that  the  facts  to  which  it  makes  appeal 
are  admitted  and  unassailable  ;  and  (2)  that  throughout 
it  Butler  rather  understates  than  exaggerates  the  force 
of  the  arguments  which  he  urges. 

I  propose  in  the  present  chapter  to  pass  under  review 
the  main  positions  which  he  advances  respecting 
natural  religion,  and  the  chief  arguments  by  which 
he  supports  them,  leaving  for  the  next  chapter  the 
'  Analogy,  Introd.  §  16. 


154  BISHOP  BUTLEE:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


second  part  of  the  Analogy,  to  which,  however,  this  first 
part  must  be  considered  as  properly  introductory. 

I. 

There  are,  as  Mr.  Gladstone  candidly  admits,^  prob- 
ably few  persons  who  do  not  rise  from  the  perusal  of 
Butler's  first  chapter  on  a  future  life  without  a  certain 
sense  of  disappointment.  He  seems,  as  compared 
with  many  other  writers,  to  make  out  so  poor  a  case 
for  the  conclusion  he  seeks  to  establish.  Is  this, 
we  ask  ourselves,  the  utmost  a  great  thinker  can  say 
on  so  momentous  a  theme?  Surely  the  case  must 
be  stronger  than  the  one  here  presented  to  us  ?  Un- 
doubtedly it  is ;  and  Butler  would  not  for  a  moment 
deny  that  it  is  so.  But  we  must  remember,  in  the  first 
place,  that  Butler  does  not  himself  attach  quite  the 
value  which  other  writers  do  to  the  absolute  strength 
of  his  positions.  If,  he  urges,  a  clear  case  is  made  out 
in  favour  of  a  certain  position,  so  that  the  probabilities 
on  the  side  of  its  being  true  clearly  outweigh  those  in 
favour  of  the  opposite  conclusion,  we  are,  as  prudent 
and  practical  men,  as  much  bound  to  give  full  weight  in 
our  conduct  to  this  overplus  of  probability  as  we  are  to 
demonstration  itself.  But  such  an  overplus  of  prob- 
ability in  favour  of  a  future  life  Butler  certainly 
believes  himself  to  have  established.^ 

In  the  second  place,  we  must  bear  in  mind  that 
Butler  in  this  chapter  is,  so  to  speak,  fighting  with  his 
hands  tied.  His  object  is  to  exhibit  what  can  be 
gathered  as  to  the  truths  of  natui-al  religion,  and  first 
as  to  our  survival  in  a  future  state,  from  the  analogy  of 
the  course  of  nature.  But  the  main  arguments  for 
man's  future  existence  are  derived  not  from  points  in 
which  he  resembles  the  other  orders  of  created  beings, 
but  from  those  in  which  he  transcends  and  so  differs 

1  Analogy,  i.  i.  §  1,  note  1.  ^  Ibid.  i.  §  32,  viii.  §  4. 


THE  "analogy,"  part  I  155 


from  them,  i.e.  from  points  in  which  he  is  in  a  sense 
"  supernatural."  It  follows,  therefore,  that  the  natural 
analogies  must  form  the  weakest  part  of  the  whole 
argument  for  immortality ;  and  practically,  as  Mr.  Glad- 
stone observes,^  a  great  deal  of  the  remaining  chapters 
of  the  first  part  of  the  Analogy  must  be  regarded  as 
supplemental  to  the  provisional  proof  furnished  in  the 
first  chapter,  and  so  giving  it  additional  strength. 

Then  again,  thirdly,  it  is  true  of  this  first  chapter,  as 
of  the  rest  of  the  Analogy,  that  Butler  spends  his  main 
strength  on  the  negative  rather  than  on  the  positive 
side  of  the  question,  on  meeting  objections  taken  to  the 
doctrine  rather  than  on  building  up  constructively  a 
positive  proof.  And  certainly  on  this  side  of  the 
argument  there  is  no  sign  of  weakness  or  hesitation. 
The  objections  which  can  be  urged  against  our  survival 
after  death  are  effectively  and  thoroughly  met ;  and  we 
feel  that  Butler  has  at  any  rate  succeeded  in  demolish- 
ing his  opponents'  positions  even  when  we  may  have 
doubts  whether  he  has  succeeded  in  establishing  his  own. 

He  begins,  however,  by  stating  the  positive  side  of 
the  case.  Man  during  the  course  of  his  existence  goes 
through  many  and  great  changes  from  the  embryo  in 
the  womb,  till  he  reaches  full-grown  maturity  and  even 
old  age,  and  he  does  this  without  ever  losing  his 
identity  throughout  them  all.  Is  there  any  reason  to 
think  that  death,  which  is  but  one  change  more,  will 
effect  that  destruction  of  identity  which  previous 
changes  have  left  intact  ?  Further,  other  creatures — 
insects,  birds,  and  the  like — undergo  in  the  course  of 
their  existence  even  greater  changes  than  man  does, 
and  yet  remain  in  spite  of  them  the  same  living 
creatures.  Analogy  thus  suggests  that  man,  in  passing 
through  even  so  great  a  change  as  death,  need  not  in 
the  process  by  any  means  necessarily  lose  his  identity. 

'  Studies,  part  i.  chap.  i. 


156  BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


The  same  truth  is  even  more  strongly  enforced  by 
what  we  may  call  the  principle  of  continuity.  This 
principle  we  have  to  assume  in  all  our  reasoning  about 
nature,  whether  animate  or  inanimate.  The  principle 
is — that  any  individual  object  which  is  in  existence  will 
continue  to  exist,  such  as  it  is,  unless  there  arises  some 
force  which  brings  about  its  dissolution  or  destruction. 
It  follows,  then,  that  we  may  assume  that  man's  soul 
and  vital  powers,  when  once  they  have  come  into 
existence,  will  continue  to  exist,  and  to  exist  as  the 
same  powers,  unless  death  be  such  a  force  as  is  capable 
of  bringing  about  their  dissolution  or  destruction.  But 
is  it  such  a  force  ? 

The  question  thus  raised  transfers,  as  it  were,  the 
argument  from  the  positive  to  the  negative  side; 
Butler's  main  business  through  the  remainder  of  the 
chapter  being  to  show  that  death  is  not,  and  cannot  be 
proved  to  be,  such  a  force.  This  he  proves  in  various 
ways.  In  the  first  place,  he  argues  there  is  nothing  in 
the  reason  of  things  which  would  lead  us  to  think  that 
death  is  the  destruction  of  our  vital  powers ;  we  know 
far  too  little  either  what  death  is  in  itself  or  what  the 
conditions  are  on  which  our  vital  powers  depend,  to  be 
able  to  pronounce  one  way  or  the  other,  whether  death 
will  be  or  will  not  be  the  destruction  of  them.  If  we 
turn  next  from  d  priori  arguments  to  experience,  we  find 
much  to  suggest  that  death  cannot  be,  or  is  not  likely 
to  be,  the  destruction  of  oui-  powers.  In  the  first  place, 
consciousness  being  one  and  iudiscerptible,  the  soul, 
which  is  conscious,  would  seem  to  be  indiscerptible  also. 
But  if  indiscerptible,  then  it  would  seem  to  be  un- 
affected by  the  dissolution  of  the  body,  and  so  will 
necessarily  survive  its  dissolution.  And  again,  if 
consciousness  be  not  absolutely  indiscerptible,  it  may 
still  reside  in  particles  smaller  than  those  into  which 
the  body  is  dissolved  at  death,  and  so  escape  sharing  in 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PART  I  157 


the  body's  dissolution.^  I  cannot  think  that  much 
weight  can  be  attached  to  either  of  these  arguments. 
Butler  himself  must  have  accepted  them,  or  he  would 
hardly  have  put  them  down ;  he  was  too  honest  a  man 
to  advance  arguments  in  which  he  did  not  himself  be- 
lieve ;  and  they  have  always  appealed  to  a  certain  class 
of  minds  from  Plato  onwards.  But,  as  Mr.  Gladstone 
points  out,2  he  does  not  allude  to  them  in  his  general 
summing  up  ;  and  had  he  attached  great  weight  to  them 
he  could  hardly  have  thus  omitted  them.  He  probably 
put  them  in  the  forefront  because  they  were  arguments 
to  which  great  value  was  attached  at  the  time,  and  there 
were  people  who  were  likely  to  be  influenced  by  them. 
In  themselves  they  seem  scarcely  tenable  ;  the  second 
suggestion  sounds  almost  ludicrous,  and  with  respect  to 
the  first,  one  hardly  sees  how  the  unity  of  consciousness 
can  prove  its  indiscerptibility.  In  any  case  the  argu- 
ments are  of  that  a  priori,  abstract  kind  against  which 
the  whole  of  the  Analogy  is  a  protest. 

Butler  has,however,  better  and  stronger  arguments  be- 
hind, to  render  probable  the  survival  of  the  soul  through 
death.  Experience  shows  us  that  our  vital  powers  are 
to  some  extent  independent  of  bodily  conditions.  Large 
changes  take  place  in  these  conditions  without  aifecting 
the  powers  themselves.  Our  whole  material  frame,  for 
instance,  is  said  to  be  replaced  once  in  seven  years,  and 
yet  the  change  in  no  way  affects  our  vital  powers. 
And  again,  we  may  lose  whole  Umbs,  and  even  large 
parts  of  our  bodies,  and  our  vital  powers  be  not 
destroyed  by  the  loss.  Our  powers  of  sensation  are 
even  more  independent  of  bodily  and  material  con- 
ditions than  are  our  vital  powers ;  our  senses  seem  like 
instruments  through  which  sensations  are  conveyed  to 
us,  rather  than  themselves  percipient;  it  is  we  who 
perceive  through  them,  not  they  themselves  which 

'  Analogy,  l.  i.  §§  10,  15.  ^  Sliidie.i,  part  ii.  chap.  i. 


158  BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


perceive.  It  is  therefore  at  least  possible  that  the 
percipient  "  we  "  may  survive  in  death,  even  though 
the  instruments  through  which  we  now  perceive  perish  ; 
and  that  we  may  acquire  for  ourselves  fresh  instruments 
of  perception.  Thirdly,  our  powers  of  reflection  are 
obviously  even  more  independent  of  material  con- 
ditions than  are  our  vital  powers  or  our  powers  of 
sensation.  Not  only  are  they  often  not  impaired  up  to 
the  very  moment  of  death,  but  they  are  sometimes  even 
heightened  and  intensified ;  so  that  we  cannot  readily 
believe  that  the  moment  of  our  dissolution  will  destroy 
them.  This  argument  has  very  great  force.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  that  our  powers  of  reflection,  at  any 
rate,  and  still  more  our  moral  character,  are  not  ex- 
plicable through  our  bodily  organism.  The  question  is. 
Can  they  exist  in  independence  of  it  ?  For  this  no 
direct  evidence  from  experience  is  possible.  No  mortal 
man  has  penetrated  behind  the  veil  or  has  left  us  a 
record  of  what  he  found  there ;  and  till  one  has,  we  are 
forced  (apart  from  revelation)  to  rely  on  partial  hints  and 
analogies,  and  trust  here,  as  elsewhere, "  the  larger  hope." 

But  this  "larger  hope"  is,  as  Butler  further  points  out, 
much  confirmed  not  only  by  the  generally  prevalent 
(we  cannot  say  absolutely  universal)  expectation  among 
mankind  of  a  life  beyond  the  grave ;  but  still  more  by 
the  sense  of  incompleteness  of  which  our  life  here  is 
full ;  and  also  by  the  many  indications  there  are  that 
we  are  being  trained  and  fitted  here  for  a  further  exist- 
ence, in  which  our  powers  shall  have  fuller  scope  and 
our  characters  have  more  room  to  expand.  That  death 
will  usher  us  into  such  a  wider  life  the  analogy  of  our 
birth  seems  to  suggest — "  a  state  in  which  our  capaci- 
ties and  sphere  of  perception  and  action  may  be  much 
greater  than  at  present."^  There  being  nothing  to 
prove  that  death  will  suspend,  still  less  that  it  will 

'  Analogy,  i.  i.  §§  17,  24.  =  Jbid.  i.  i.  §  27. 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PART  I 


159 


destroy,  our  powers  either  of  action  or  reflection,  it  may 
well  be  that  "  when  we  go  out  of  this  world  we  shall 
pass  into  new  scenes,  and  a  new  state  of  life  and  action, 
just  as  naturally  as  we  came  into  the  present."  ^  "  This 
new  state  may,  further,  be  a  social  one.  And  the  ad- 
vantages of  it,  advantages  of  every  kind,  may  naturally 
be  bestowed,  according  to  some  fixed  general  laws  of 
wisdom,  upon  every  one  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of 
his  virtue."  And  even  if  "  the  advantages  of  that  future 
natural  state  should  be  bestowed  not  by  the  will  of 
society,  as  those  of  our  present  state,  in  some  measure, 
are,  but  entirely  by  His  more  immediate  action  upon 
Whom  the  whole  frame  of  nature  depends ;  yet  this 
distribution  may  be  just  as  natural,  as  their  being 
distributed  here  by  the  instrumentality  of  men."  ^ 

How  much  there  is  in  this  present  life  which  sug- 
gests such  a  future  distribution  of  advantages  and 
disadvantages,  of  rewards  and  punishments ;  how  the 
world  being  governed  now  on  such  a  system,  renders 
it  probable  that  our  existence  hereafter  will  be  so 
governed  also ;  how  much  there  is  in  this  hfe  to  suggest 
that  our  existence  here  is  a  state  of  preparation  and 
discipline  for  a  larger  existence  hereafter ;  and  how 
likely  it  must  be  that  we  cannot  fully  apprehend  the 
designs  and  purposes  of  God  as  a  whole,  it  is  the  object 
of  the  succeeding  chapters  to  disclose. 

II. 

The  two  next  chapters,^  which  deal  with  different 
aspects  of  one  and  the  same  subject,  will  be  most  con- 
veniently considered  together.  In  the  first  of  them 
Butler  tries  to  show  that  God  exercises  a  direct  govern- 
ment over  men  in  this  world ;  in  the  second,  that  this 
government  is  essentially  a  moral  government.  God's 
'  Analogy,  I.  i.  §§  27,  31.  ^  Ibid,  chaps,  ii.  and  iii. 


160  BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


government  is  proved  by  His  attaching  pleasui-e  and 
delight  to  certain  actions  and  courses  of  conduct,  pain 
to  other  actions  and  other  courses  of  conduct;  and  by  His 
endowing  men  with  a  power  to  foresee  that  either  conse- 
quence will  follow  according  as  they  act  one  way  or  the 
other.  This  notion  of  rewarding  and  punishing  certain 
determinate  actions  and  courses  of  conduct  forms  the 
proper  idea  of  government ;  so  that,  to  those  who  believe 
in  a  personal  God  at  all,  it  must  seem  as  certain  that  God 
governs  men  and  women  as  that  the  magistrate  governs 
the  subjects  of  the  State,  or  a  father  his  children,  or  a 
master  his  servants."  ^  Nor  does  it  make  any  difference 
either  (1)  that  the  punishment  and  reward  do  not 
always  take  effect,  since  in  the  great  majority  of  cases 
they  do  so  ;  or  (2)  that  the  pimishments  may  in  some 
cases  seem  slight  and  even  trivial,  and  the  rewards  also 
slight  and  trivial ;  or  (3)  that  such  rewards  and  punish- 
ments seem  to  follow  by  way  of  natural  consequence 
instead  of  being,  so  to  speak,  arbitrarily  attached  to  the 
acts  in  question ;  or  (4)  that  they  do  not  foUow  im- 
mediately, but  sometimes  only  after  a  long  delay,  on  the 
performance  of  the  acts ;  or  (5)  whether  we  do  or,  as 
oftener  happens,  do  not  contemplate  the  consequences 
as  likely  to  follow  at  the  time  when  the  acts  are  com- 
mitted. For,  however  little  we  contemplate  them,  the 
consequences  will  follow  alike  for  good  and  for  bad,  and 
must  be  regarded,  in  so  far  as  they  are  capable  of  being 
foreseen,  as  the  pimishments  or  rewards  attached  to  the 
actions, — "  rewards  and  puinshments  which  we  are  re- 
garded, and  justly  regarded,  as  bringing  on  ourselves."  ^ 
Two  other  points  remain  to  be  observed.  First,  that 
opportunities,  if  neglected,  will  often  never  recur.  The 
chance  offered  by  them  to  us,  if  let  shp,  is  often  never 
repeated.  A  wasted  and  misspent  youth,  for  instance, 
can  constantly  never  be  repaired.  And  secondly,  it  often 

'  Analogy,  i.  ii.  §§  6,  9.  -  Ibid.  i.  ii.  §  12. 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PAET  I  161 


happens  that,  while  repentance  and  amendment  are 
efficacious  up  to  a  certain  point,  yet  if  that  point  be 
past,  the  consequences  of  our  actions  become  ii-retriev- 
able;  we  cannot  then  undo  the  ills,  whether  to  our- 
selves or  others,  which  they  entail.  The  consequences 
work  themselves  out  regardless,  as  it  were,  of  our 
sorrow ;  and  repentance  becomes  almost  like  worthless 
regret.  Now  it  is  obvious,  says  Butler,  that  all  this 
"  natural "  order  of  things,  which  we  constantly  see 
going  on  in  the  world  around  us,  presents  strong 
analogies  to  what  may  happen  to  us,  under  the  govern- 
ment of  the  same  God,  in  a  future  life ;  and  should  in 
reason  make  men  at  least  apprehensive  lest  a  doom, 
similar  to  that  which  they  have  so  often  the  oppor- 
tunity of  tracing  here,  may  also  await  them  hereafter. 
In  the  end,  the  whole  matter  is  thus  summed  up. 
"  Reflections  of  this  kind  are  not  without  their  terrors 
to  serious  persons,  the  most  free  from  enthusiasm  and 
of  the  greatest  strength  of  mind ;  but  it  is  fit  things  be 
stated  and  considered  as  they  really  are.  And  there  is 
in  the  present  age  a  certain  fearlessness  with  regard  to 
what  may  be  hereafter  under  the  government  of  God, 
which  nothing  but  an  universally  acknowledged  demon- 
stration on  the  side  of  atheism  can  justify,  and  which 
makes  it  quite  necessary  that  men  be  reminded,  and,  if 
possible,  made  to  feel,  that  there  is  no  sort  of  ground 
for  being  thus  presumptuous,  even  upon  the  most 
sceptical  principles."  ^ 

Mr.  Stephen  is  right  in  regarding  chapter  iii.  as 
containing  the  very  kernel  of  the  doctrine  of  the 
Analogy?  Having  shown  in  chapter  ii.  that  God  is 
the  governor  of  men,  governing  them  in  the  same  sense 
in  which  a  magistrate  governs  his  fellow-citizens,  or  a 
father  his  children,  Butler  proceeds  in  this  chapter  to 
ask,  Does  experience  reveal  to  us  in  any  way  the  prin- 

1  Analogy,  i.  ii.  §  20.       ^  jji^i^  gj  ^ng_  Thought,  vol.  i.  v.  p.  292. 


162    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


ciples  hy  which  His  government  is  directed  ?  Can  we 
make  out  from  the  facts  of  life  anything  about  the 
mind,  temper,  and  character  of  God  ?  Butler  holds 
that  we  can ;  that,  though  the  principles  on  which  God's 
government  proceeds  are  not  fully  revealed,  and  though 
the  matter  may  take  some  care  and  attention  fully  to 
apprehend  it,  yet  the  heginnings  of  a  righteous  admin- 
istration may  beyond  all  question  be  found  in  nature ; 
and  we  are  able  thus  to  convince  ourselves  that  God's 
government  is  a  moral  government, — one,  that  is,  in 
which  men  are  rewarded  and  suffer,  on  the  whole  and  in 
the  long-run,  according  to  their  deserts.  For  though 
there  may  be  doubt  in  individual  instances  whether 
virtue  be  actually  pleasanter  in  itself  and  in  its  results 
than  vice,  particularly  where  the  case  is  one  of  a  re- 
formed character,  yet  in  the  generality  of  instances  it 
certainly  is  so.  This  is  still  clearer  if  we  reckon  in 
the  sense  of  content  and  tranquillity  of  mind  which 
virtue  brings  with  it,  the  good  repute  which  right  action 
earns  from  most  men,  and  above  all  fi-om  the  good ;  the 
escape  alike  from  actual  punishment  at  the  hands  of 
the  law,  and  also  from  the  dread  of  it,  which  vii-tuous 
courses  secure,  and  again,  the  avoidance  of  fears  for  the 
future  and  the  prevalence  of  good  hopes  for  it,  which 
(explain  them  how  we  may)  do  certainly  exist  in  the 
minds  of  the  great  majority  of  men,  attaching  the  one 
to  the  performance  of  vii-tue,  the  other  to  the  con- 
sciousness of  vice.  Goodwill  and  favour  from  their 
fellow-men  generally  attend  those  who  do  well,  while 
ill-wiU  and  dislike  largely  pursue  those  who  do  eviL^ 
And  these  good  consequences,  it  is  further  to  be 
observed,  belong  to  virtue,  as  such,  and  the  ill  conse- 
quences to  vice,  as  such ;  whereas,  when  misery  attends 
virtue  and  happiness  vice,  they  attend  them  owing 
to  some  external  and,  so  to  speak,  accidental  cause. 

1  Analogy,  I.  iii.  §§  13,  14,  15. 


THE  "analogy,"  part  I 


163 


A  good  man  may  be  the  citizen  of  a  country  governed 
by  bad  laws,  and  so  be  punished  for  breaking  the  law ; 
but  he  is  clearly  punished  in  such  a  case,  not  because 
he  is  a  good  man,  but  because  he  disregards  the  law. 
The  fact  that  the  world  is  governed  by  general  laws  is 
further  apt  to  produce  in  individual  instances  what 
appear  like  cases  of  hardship  which  tend  still  further 
to  obscure  the  connection  which  exists  between  virtue 
and  happiness,  misery  and  vice;  yet  this  connection 
does  none  the  less  exist,  and  at  once  falls  in  with  our 
natural  expectation  that  it  should  be  so ;  and  the  fact 
is  a  further  proof,  independent  of  that  expectation, 
that  it  is  the  regular  course  of  God's  dealings  with 
men  to  reward  virtue  and  punish  vice,  and  so  helps 
to  make  it  plain  that  He  is  indeed  a  moral  governor 
of  the  world.i 

And  observe,  again,  that  this  tendency  for  virtue  to  be 
rewarded  and  vice  punished  goes  further  than  its  actual 
fulfilment  under  existing  conditions.  For  there  are 
many  hindrances  which  at  present  mterfere  with  virtue 
exerting  its  full  strength  and  securing  its  proper 
triumph.  Among  these  we  must  reckon  the  ignorance 
good  men  are  often  in  of  one  another's  characters ;  the 
misconceptions  which  in  such  circumstances  are  sure  to 
arise,  and  the  consequent  want  of  co-operation  and 
want  of  union  between  them ;  the  shortness  of  human 
life  cutting  short  many  a  career  before  it  has  had  time 
to  exert  its  proper  influence;  and  other  untoward 
accidents  which  contribute  to  goodness  being  often 
overborne.  Now  in  a  future  state  it  is  easy  to  suppose 
these  hindrances  removed  ;  since  even  in  this  present 
world  we  can  imagine  a  state  of  things  which  would 
be  more  favourable  to  virtue  than  the  present.  What 
would  be  the  result  ?  Obviously,  that  in  that  future 
state,  as  in  that  more  ideal  state  on  earth,  virtue  would 

'  Analogy,  i.  iii.  §  20. 


164    BISHOP  BUTLEE:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


be  more  immediately  and  directly  rewarded  and  vice 
punished  than  they  are  now — an  improved  state  of 
things  which  would  of  itself  tend  still  further  to  enforce 
virtue  and  to  deter  from  vice :  for  if  a  commonwealth  of 
perfectly  virtuous  men  were  established  on  earth,  and 
continued  for  a  sufficient  time,  it  would  gradually,  partly 
by  its  inherent  strength  and  unity,  partly  by  the  force  of 
its  example,  acquire  a  power  and  influence  which  would 
give  it  a  world-wide  dominion. 

The  conclusions,  then,  to  which  these  facts  of  experi- 
ence point  are  these.  First,  God  is  sljown  to  be  here 
and  now  a  moral  governor,  distributing  rewards  and 
punishments  to  virtue  and  vice  respectively,  i.e.  in 
accordance  with  merit  and  demerit.  Secondly,  there  is 
reason  to  think  that  this  may  be  done  more  perfectly  and 
in  a  higher  degree  in  a  future  life  than  it  is  at  present. 
For,  thirdly,  we  can  recognise  that  there  is  an  inherent 
tendency  in  virtue  to  be  rewarded  and  in  vice  to  be 
punished,  while  the  hindrances  to  their  being  so  are  in 
many  cases  artificial  and  of  a  kind  that  we  can  imagine 
easily  to  disappear  in  another  state  of  existence;  so 
that  things  shall  no  longer  go  on  in  the  same  "  mixed 
way" — virtue  sometimes  prosperous,  sometimes  de- 
pressed ;  vice  sometimes  punished,  sometimes  successful 
— as  they  do  at  present  upon  earth.^  Such  "  tendencies 
are  to  be  considered  as  intimations,  as  implicit  promises 
and  threatenings,  from  the  Author  of  Nature,  of  much 
greater  rewards  to  follow  virtue  and  vice  than  do  at 
present."  "  From  these  things  together  arises  a  real 
presumption  that  the  moral  scheme  of  government 
established  in  nature  shall  be  carried  on  much  further 
towards  perfection  hereafter ;  and,  I  think,  a  presump- 
tion it  shall  be  absolutely  completed."  - 

The  facts,  as  Butler  states  them,  had  been  often 
noticed  and  were  generally  admitted.    Shaftesbury  and 

1  Analogy,  I.  iii.  §  32.  =  §  38. 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PAET  I 


165 


other  writers  had  already  insisted,  in  almost  exag- 
gerated terms,  on  the  connection  between  virtue  and 
happiness,  vice  and  misery.^  What  was  new  was 
Butler's  argument  that  this  connection  showed  the 
moral  government  of  the  world  ;  and  the  inference  he 
drew  therefrom,  that  God's  incipient  or  imperfect 
moral  government  here  gave  the  promise  of  a  more 
complete  and  perfect  moral  government  hereafter. 
In  modern  times  an  attempt  has  been  made,  while 
admitting  his  facts,  to  meet  Butler's  argument  in  the 
following  way.  May  not  the  argument,  asks  Mr. 
Stephen,  be  inverted  ?  ^  Is  it  not  reasonable  to  assume, 
if  conscience  approves  corn-age  and  temperance,  justice, 
veracity  and  public  spirit,  and  these  virtues  on  the 
whole  produce  happiness  for  the  individual  (and  still 
more  for  the  society  of  which  he  is  a  member),  that 
the  reason  why  conscience  so  approves  them  and  dis- 
approves their  opposites  is  that  they  have  this  very 
effect  ?  Conscience  will  thus  be  partly  the  offspring  of 
a  perception,  often  inherited  and  mostly  unconscious, 
of  the  tendency  of  certain  actions  and  courses  of  con- 
duct to  produce  happiness  in  the  individual,  partly  of  a 
consciousness  that  they  tend  to  promote  the  well-being 
of  society.  The  question  between  Butler  and  his 
critic,  as  Mr.  Stephen  himself  points  out,  thus  resolves 
itself  into  this — Can  we  claim  an  independent  origin 
for  our  moral  convictions  ?  ^  Can  it  be  shown  that  acts 
and  motives  have,  for  the  reason  and  the  conscience,  an 
iutrinsic  rightness  or  wrongness  apart  from  any  conse- 
quences to  which  they  lead  in  the  way  of  producing 
happiness  whether  for  the  agent  himself  or  for  others  ? 
If  this  can  be  established,  Butler's  argument  becomes 
plausible  and  coherent.    If  the  opposite  can  be  proved 

^  Lord  Shaftesbury's  Inquiry  coneerniny  Virhic,  part  ii.,  quoted 
in  Analogy,  i.  iii.  §  5. 

-  Eny.  Tliomjhl,  i.  v.  §  13,  p.  292.  ^  Loc.  cit.  §  14. 


166    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


it  loses  not,  I  think,  all,  but  a  great  part  of  its  force. 
The  question  is  too  long  and  too  difficult  to  be  entered 
on  here.  I  shall  only  make  two  remarks  upon  it. 
First,  that  the  attempts  which  have  been  made  to  show 
conscience  to  be  derivative,  and  to  resolve  morality 
into  a  mere  calculus  of  hedonistic  consequences,  have 
not  on  the  whole  approved  themselves  to  the  most 
considerable  thinkers  since  Butler's  time.  While  Kant 
is  unanswered, "  independent "  systems  of  morahty  hold 
the  field.  Secondly,  writers  like  Mr.  Stephen,  who 
are  perpetually  harping  upon  the  inequalities  which 
exist  in  the  distribution  of  happiness  and  misery,  who 
assert  that  it  is  constantly  not  the  virtuous  who  are 
rewarded  nor  the  vicious  who  suffer,  seem  to  cut  the 
ground  from  under  their  own  feet ;  since,  while  main- 
taining that  conscience  is  nothing  else  than  an  acquired 
or  inherited  perception  of  the  consequences  of  conduct, 
they  yet  hold  that  the  consequences  are  in  so  many 
cases  not  in  accordance  with  the  moral  judgments 
which  are  said  to  follow  from  them. 

III. 

Chapters  iv.  and  v.,  like  chapters  ii.  and  iii.,  may  best 
be  taken  together,  as  they  treat  of  what  is  virtually  but 
one  subject.  The  subject  treated  in  both  is — That  it  is 
reasonable  to  regard  our  life  here  as  a  state  of  probation, 
discipline,  and  preparation  for  a  future  life  hereafter. 
In  the  last  two  chapters  Butler  has  shown  that  we  are 
under  what  may  be  described  as  a  state  of  government, 
and  that  the  government  exercised  over  us  is  a  moral 
government.  But  to  what  end  is  this  government 
being  directed  ?  It  is  being  directed,  answers  religion, 
to  fitting  us  for  another  state  of  existence  hereafter. 
But  the  idea  of  life  being  thus  a  probation  involves  the 
further  notions  of  our  future  condition  being  determined 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PART  I  167 


by  our  present  behaviour  ;  and  of  our  being  exposed  to 
temptation,  trial,  and  difHculty.  Some  people  objected  to 
this  as  being  incompatible  with  the  supposed  goodness 
of  God.  To  them  Butler  makes  answer,  that  we  are  ex- 
posed to  risks  in  respect  of  our  temporal  happiness  in 
just  the  same  way,  and  owing  to  the  same  kind  of 
temptations,  as  we  are  with  respect  to  our  future 
happiness.  These  risks,  or  temptations  as  we  call  them, 
are  of  two  kinds — they  arise  either  from  the  force  of 
cii-cumstances  acting  upon  us,  or  from  our  own  unruly 
passions ;  or,  as  is  most  commonly  the  case,  from  a 
combination  of  the  two.  But  one  or  other  of  these 
forces,  leading  us  astray,  sometimes  with  onr  eyes  shut, 
sometimes  with  our  eyes  open,  makes  us  ruin  or  neglect 
our  worldly  interests,  exactly  in  the  same  way  as  they 
make  us  disregard  the  claims  of  virtue.  They  thus 
cause  us  to  sacrifice  on  earth  that  happiness  which  is 
the  effect  of  virtue.  But  if  no  one  regards  it  as  unfair 
or  inequitable  that  we  should  be  thus  charged,  as  it 
were,  with  the  custody  of  our  own  worldly  fortunes, 
how  can  it  be  inequitable  or  unfair  if  our  future 
condition  is  equally  made  dependent  on  ourselves  and 
on  our  conduct  ?  No  greater  burden  would  seem  in  this 
respect  to  be  laid  upon  us  than  we  are  well  able  to  bear. 
Our  condition  is  neither  unsuited  to  our  powers,  nor 
our  powers  to  our  condition;  and  that  we  should  be 
in  this  way,  as  far  as  our  moral  character  is  concerned, 
exposed  to  the  proof  and  trial  of  temptation,  is  strictly 
analogous  to  what  we  daily  experience  in  ourselves,  and 
watch  in  others,  in  the  matter  of  our  temporal  interests. 

Nor  is  it  unreasonable  or  contrary  to  analogy  to 
regard  this  present  life  as  a  period  of  discipline  and 
preparation  fitting  us  for  a  future  state  of  existence. 
Each  period  of  our  life  here  is  in  some  sort  a  preparation 
for  all  that  follows  it — childhood  for  youth,  youth  for 
manhood,  manhood  for  old  age.     According  to  the  use 


168    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


which  we  make  of  each,  such  to  a  large  extent  is  our 
fortune  in  the  period  that  follows.  A  spoilt  childhood 
mars  our  youth  and  shipwrecks  our  mature  life ;  a 
wasted  or  misspent  youth  paves  too  often  the  way  for  a 
miserable  old  age.  Thus  human  life  on  earth  must  be 
regarded  as  a  perpetual  progress ;  each  stage  in  which  is 
a  preparation  for  those  that  come  after.  We  do  not  come 
into  the  world  with  all  our  capacities,  whether  intellec- 
tual or  moral,  ready  made,  fully  formed,  or  perfectly 
adapted  to  the  circumstances  in  which  we  are  called 
upon  to  act.  It  is  only  by  the  formation  of  habits, 
built  up  in  us  through  experience  and  repeated  action 
and  exercise,  that  we  are  fitted  to  play  our  part  in  this 
world.  Apart  from  experience  and  the  formation  of 
such  habits,  a  child  is  powerless  to  cope  with  the 
difficulties  of  life.  But  if  in  this  way  by  a  laborious 
process  of  development,  the  experience,  the  capacities, 
and  power,  fitting  us  for  our  earthly  life,  are  gradually 
acquired,  there  can  be  nothing  unnatural  or  surprising 
in  our  needing  the  experience  and  training  of  this  life 
to  make  us  fit  for  some  larger  and  perhaps  higher  state 
of  existence  hereafter.  Nor  would  the  conclusion  be 
weakened  even  though  we  could  not  see  ho%v  this  life 
could  be  a  preparation  for  a  future  one.  But,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  this  is  not  the  case.  Accepting  the 
position  that  God  is  a  moral  governor,  we  can  readily 
understand  how  this  life  may  be  necessary  to  train  us 
in  those  habits  of  piety  and  virtue  which  are  requisite 
to  make  us  fit  citizens  of  a  kingdom  of  heaven ;  and  to 
guard  us  against  those  tendencies  to  lapse  from  true 
virtue  which  arise  from  our  possessing  propensities  and 
passions,  harmless  in  themselves,  but  capable,  if  in- 
dulged to  excess  or  indulged  wrongly,  of  leading  us 
astray  from  righteousness,  and  upsetting  the  balance 
and  due  proportion  of  our  nature.  For  such  a  train- 
ing in  virtue  as  would  harden  our  principles  and  extend 


THE  "analogy,"  part  I 


169 


our  faculties,  Life  on  this  earth,  with  its  accompanj-ing 
difficulties  and  temptations  (temptations  resulting  in 
part  from  the  influence  of  bad  example  and  of  the  com- 
panions among  whom  we  live),  seems  specially  suited. 
To  suppose  our  life  here  designed  by  God  for  such  an 
end,  while  it  will  not  explain  all  the  mysteries  of  human 
existence,  yet  goes  some  way  to  make  our  life  intelli- 
gible and  to  solve  some  of  its  most  formidable  puzzles.^ 
To  this  way,  however,  of  regarding  life  two  serious 
objections  may  be  advanced,  and  these  Butler  next 
proceeds  to  meet.  The  first  is,  that  for  many  life  is  not 
a  school  in  virtue  but  a  school  in  vice  ;  that  many  are 
not  being  rendered  by  it  fit  for  a  higher  or  better  state 
of  existence,  but  quite  the  opposite.  To  this  he  makes 
answer :  ^  the  fact  that  some,  and  even  many,  do  not 
make  use  of  their  opportunities  does  not  prove  that  they 
were  not  intended  to  do  so ;  nor  does  their  neglect 
detract  from  the  good  effects  of  training  and  discipline 
on  those  who  do  make  use  of  them  ;  and  the  loss  of  souls 
which  thus  occurs  is  analogous  to,  though  more  dreadful 
than,  the  apparent  waste  of  life  which  goes  on  so  per- 
petually in  nature.  Why  there  should  be  this  apparent 
waste  we  do  not  know ;  nor  can  we  tell  altogether  why 
there  should  be  this  apparent  loss  of  souls  who  still 
have  the  opportunity  to  do  better.  This  must  ever 
remain  the  mystery  of  mysteries.  All  we  can  dimly 
see  is  that,  if  God  wills  that  man's  will  should  be  left 
free,  the  result  must  in  some  sense  inevitably  follow. 
The  other  difficulty  is  this :  do  we  not,  in  laying  such 
stress  on  virtue  as  the  necessary  condition  fitting  us 
for  a  state  of  happiness  hereafter,  make  the  pursuit  of 
virtue  merge  into  mere  selfishness  and  self-interest,  and 
so  deprive  that  pursuit  of  all,  or  of  most,  of  the  merit 
which  it  would  otherwise  possess  ?  To  this  Butler 
replies  that  men  are  hardly  ever  influenced  by  one 

»  Analogy,  I.  iv.  §§  24-32.  Ibid.  34,  35. 


170    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


single  motive,  and  that  the  three  motives  of  love  of 
God,  disinterested  regard  for  virtue,  and  reasonable  care 
for  our  own  interests  so  blend  and  mingle  with  one 
another  that  it  is  hard  to  disentangle  or  separate  them  ; 
that  habits  formed  under  any  one  of  the  three  motives 
become  in  effect  equivalent  to  those  formed  under  the 
others,  since  love  of  our  future  interest  is  in  itself  a 
form  of  virtue,  and  would  be  impossible  did  we  not 
believe  in  a  moral  God  who  associated  happiness  with 
virtue.  The  important  point  is  that  habits  of  virtue 
should  be  formed,  whatever  the  motive  that  originally 
inspired  them  ;  and  when  formed  they  go  on  to  a  great 
extent  independently  of  the  motive  which  in  the  first 
instance  prompted  them. 

The  final  objection  which  Butler  meets  is  a  curious 
and  subtle  one.  It  is  the  passive  virtues  of  endurance, 
long-suffering,  and  patience  that  our  life  on  earth  seems 
best  fitted  to  promote  and  develop.  But  what  place,  it 
is  asked,  have  the  passive  virtues  generally,  and  resigna- 
tion in  particular,  in  a  state  of  things  where  there  will 
be  ex,  hypothesi  no  more  suffering,  and  consequently 
no  occasion  for  their  direct  display  ?  To  this  it  is 
answered,  we  know  too  little  of  the  coming  state  of 
things  to  say  positively  that  we  shall  have  no  need  of 
such  virtues.  Even  in  a  state  of  happiness  it  is  easy  to 
imagine  they  may  still  have  theii'  uses,  and  in  any  case 
those  virtues  may  have  a  positive  value  in  themselves, 
even  though  the  occasions  for  theii'  exercise  hereafter 
may  be  few  or  non-existent.^ 

The  conception  which  in  these  chapters  Butler  has 
elaborated  of  our  present  life  being  a  period  of  proba- 
tion, and  also  of  preparation,  for  a  future  existence,  has 
probably  affected  English  thought  more  than  any  other 
part  of  the  Analogy.  As  Mr.  Stephen  is  forced  to  allow, 
the  facts  at  least  admit  of  the  interpretation  which 
'  Analofjij,  I.  iv.  §§  37,  38. 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PART  1 


171 


Butler  places  upon  them,  aud  there  is  much  in  the 
analogies  adduced  to  give  probability  to  the  view  here 
maintained.  All  that  he  can  urge  against  the  doctrine 
is  that  there  is  no  direct  evidence  to  support  it  (which 
is  hardly  true  for  those  who  accept  the  reality  of  our 
Lord's  Eesurrection),  and  that  the  more  obvious  inter- 
pretation of  the  facts  is  to  regard  the  earlier  stages  of 
life  as  simply  the  preparation  for  the  later  stages  rather 
than  to  consider  life  as  a  whole  as  a  preparation  for 
a  future  existence  which  lies  beyond  it.  It  woidd,  he 
urges,  be  a  more  conclusive  proof  of  Butler's  position 
if  it  could  be  shown  that  the  discipline  of  life  were 
forming  in  us  habits  which,  while  not  useful  for  a  life 
here,  had  an  intelligible  purpose  in  a  life  hereafter. 
Of  course,  our  ignorance  of  the  character  of  the  after 
life  renders  it  impossible  for  us  to  produce  any  such 
proof;  but  if  it  can  be  shown,  as  I  think  it  may  be 
shown  (and  as  Butler  certainly  assumes  to  be  the  case), 
that  moral  qualities  appeal  to  us  as  having  an  inde- 
pendent value,  quite  apart  from  their  usefulness  during 
this  life  to  the  individual  or  to  society  at  large,  then  the 
hypothesis  that  our  life  is  intended  for  the  formation  aud 
perfecting  of  such  qualities  in  us,  and  for  fitting  us  for  the 
happiness  which  their  possession  brings  with  it,  gets  a 
plausibility  and  even  a  probability  which  Mr.  Stephen, 
with  his  doctrine  of  a  merely  derivative  and,  we  may 
say,  subordinate  morality,  cannot  possibly  allow  it. 
To  Mr.  Stephen  the  development  of  morality  is  a  phase 
incidental  to  the  general  development  of  man ;  at  once 
a  result  of  past  conditions  in  the  history  of  the  race, 
and  a  factor  helping  to  determine  the  future.  We  may 
call  this  phase  of  development  the  highest,  and  this 
result  the  most  important ;  yet  it  is  hard  to  say  with 
what  right,  if  we  look  only  to  the  fact  that  morality 
serves  to  perpetuate  the  life  of  the  human  race,  or  of 
particular  races,  on  this  earth,  and  do  not  consider  the 


172    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


value  of  the  life  it  helps  to  perpetuate.  Of  course,  if 
life  is  admitted  to  be  a  good, — though  on  this  point  Mr. 
Stephen  himself  seems  somewhat  doubtful, — all  that 
promotes  life  must  be  good  also ;  and  so  the  virtues 
which  help  to  promote  and  enhance  life  find  in  this 
fact  their  sole  and  sufficient  justification.  But  to  those 
to  whom  \drtue  seems  touched  by  finer  issues,  and  to 
serve  a  deeper  purpose  than  merely  to  enhance  or 
prolong  man's  present  existence,  the  doctrine  that  we 
live  in  order  to  become  virtuous  must  seem  a  more 
probable  doctrine  than  that  the  desire  to  be  virtuous 
is  merely  a  subtle  form  of  the  desire  to  prolong  our  own 
existence  and  that  of  the  society  to  which  we  belong. 
In  other  words,  the  reUgious  interpretation  of  human 
life,  as  Butler  presents  it,  must  seem  more  plausible  and 
probable  than  that  our  life  on  earth  has  a  value  only 
for  its  own  sake ;  and  that  virtue  and  goodness  are 
desirable  only  in  so  far  as  and  because  they  tend  to 
secure  or  prolong  that  life  and  the  happiness  which 
it  brings,  and  to  enable  it  to  be  carried  on  under  more 
favourable  conditions.  Here  comes  the  parting  of  the 
ways  between  the  rival  theories. 

It  is  perhaps  matter  for  surprise  that  while  Butler's 
theory  of  Kfe  as  a  probation  and  preparation  for  another 
state  of  existence  has  so  profoundly  affected  subsequent 
thought  in  England,  it  should  not  have  more  distinctly 
modified  the  prevailing  views  of  heaven  and  heU.  It 
is  really  entirely  incompatible  with  them.  Wesley  and 
Whitfield  popularised  by  their  teaching  an  exceedingly 
material  view  both  of  heaven  and  of  hell,  and  combined 
it  with  a  crude  theory  of  predestination.  These  views, 
stamped  deep  at  the  time  on  the  popular  imagination, 
have  continued  greatly  to  influence  popular  religious 
thought  both  for  good  and  for  bad  ever  since.  If  they 
have  awakened  in  many  minds,  as  they  certainly  have, 
a  keener  sense  of  personal  responsibility,  of  the  ill 


THE  "analogy,"  part  I  173 

effects  of  sin,  of  the  importance  of  religion  as  a  practical 
question,  they  are  also  not  a  little  responsible  for  the 
repulsion  felt  towards  rehgion  by  not  a  few  of  the  more 
educated  classes  and  the  more  thoughtful  among  the 
working  classes.  It  is  scarcely  too  much  to  say  that 
three-fourths  of  the  objections  urged  against  religion  in 
our  day  are  objections  not  to  Christianity  in  itself,  but 
to  the  popular  misconceptions  of  it  in  which  a  material, 
and  even  arbitrary,  heaven  and  hell  play  so  large  a  part. 
To  all  such  objections  the  best  antidote  is  to  be  found 
in  these  chapters  of  the  Analogy.  In  them,  as  in  the 
second  sermon  on  the  Love  of  God  ^  (where  his  views 
on  the  subject  are  stated  more  at  length),  Butler  makes 
it  plain  that  however  Uttle  we  may  be  able  to  conceive 
the  conditions  under  which  our  new  existence  will  be 
passed,  one  thing  at  least  is  certain,  that  our  joys  and 
om-  pains  will  be  alike  spu-itual,  and  that  there  will  and 
can  be  nothing  arbitrary  about  them.  Our  joys  will  be 
those  which  our  spii'itual  condition  makes  us  capable  of 
attaining — the  sight  of  God  as  He  is  in  Himself ;  the 
contemplation  of  His  attributes,  qualities,  and  modes  of 
working,  of  His  love,  His  faithfulness,  and  truth ;  the 
delight  we  shall  feel  at  being  admitted  to  His  presence, 
and  being  allowed  to  engage  in  His  service.  Of  hell 
and  its  pains  the  bishop  speaks  sparingly  and  with 
reserve ;  it  is  not  a  subject  on  which  his  thought 
dehghts  to  dwell ;  but  here  too,  as  in  the  case  of  heaven, 
the  pains,  he  insists,  must  be  spiritual  pains,  pains,  too, 
which  are  naturally,  not  arbitrarily,  attached  to  the  evil 
courses  and  dispositions  on  which  they  follow.  Yet  the 
law  which  so  constantly  annexes  misery  and  suffering 
to  vice  and  wickedness  even  here  on  earth  forbids  him 
to  hold  optimistic  views  on  the  subject,  or  to  think  that 
the  same  conduct  may  not  be  associated  with  similar 
pains  in  the  future ;  and  thus  he  was  led  seriously  to 
'  Sermon  XIV. 


174    BISHOP  BUTLER;  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


rebuke  the  levity  of  his  age,  which  would  not  even  take 
count  of  the  possibility  of  such  an  alternative,  but  pro- 
ceeded to  act  too  often  as  if  the  non-existence  of  future 
penalties  were  a  demonstrated  truth.  This,  he  urges,  it 
certainly  cannot  be.  While  into  the  many  questions  con- 
nected with  a  future  life,  its  duration,  its  characteristics, 
its  universality  (questions  treated  some  of  them  with 
much  subtlety,  though  for  the  most  part  with  negative 
results,  by  Mr.  Gladstone  in  his  interesting  dissertation 
on  the  subject),^  Butler  deliberately  refuses  to  enter, 
on  two  points  he  is  clear ;  first,  that  the  probabilities 
in  favour  of  a  continued  existence  after  death  are  very 
strong  indeed,  as  strong  as  is,  perhaps,  compatible  with 
leaving  any  merit  to  virtue  ;  and  secondly,  assuming  the 
fact  of  a  future  or  continued  existence,  that  oui-  condi- 
tion in  it  must  be  largely  relative  to  and  determined  by 
our  conduct  here.  As  here,  so  there,  our  acts  and 
habits  will  still 

..."  follow  with  us  from  afar, 
And  what  we  have  been  make  us  what  we  are." 

IV. 

In  the  two  concluding  chapters  of  the  first  part 
of  the  Analogy  Butler  deals  first  with  the  objection 
which  ensues  from  the  supposition  of  aU  action  being 
necessary ;  and  then  with  the  consequences  which  arise 
from  the  admitted  limitations  of  hmnan  knowledge — 
from  the  government  of  God  being,  as  he  puts  it,  a  con- 
stitution or  scheme  imperfectly  comprehended.  With 
the  first  of  these  topics  I  do  not  propose  to  deal  at 
any  length ;  it  lies  generally  outside  the  main  scope  or 
argument  of  the  Analogy,  and  its  insertion  was  probably 
dictated  by  the  interest  the  controversy  was  exciting  at 
the  time,  and  the  evil  practical  consequences  which 
followed  from  the  adoption  of  the  theory  of  necessity. 

'  Studies  subsidiary  to  Butler's  Works,  part  ii.  chaps,  i.-vi. 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PART  I  175 


Butler's  reasoning  on  the  subject  amounts  to  this,  that 
whatever  may  be  the  theoretical  difficulties  in  the  way 
of  the  assumption  of  the  freedom  of  the  will,  in  j)ractical 
matters  we  are  bound  to  act  as  if  the  will  were  free ;  to 
go  upon  the  other  hypothesis  would  land  us  in  endless 
difficulties  and  empty  many  of  our  most  familiar  terms  of 
all  their  proper  meaning.  But  if  in  all  practical  matters 
we  have  to  make  this  assumption,  we  can  scarcely  be 
wrong  in  going  upon  a  similar  assumption  in  matters 
of  religion,  which  after  all  are  practical  also. 

On  the  last  chapter  it  will  be  necessary  to  enter  more 
at  length,  since  it  contains  Butler's  most  effective  argu- 
ment against  the  main  Deist  position,  and  furnishes  the 
foundation  on  which  is  reared  the  central  portion  of  the 
second  part  of  the  Analogy.  The  main  argument  of  this 
chapter  had  already  been  shadowed  forth  in  the  sermon 
on  the  Ignorance  of  Man,  just  as  some  of  the  most 
important  doctrines  of  chapter  v.  had  previously 
appeared  in  the  two  sermons  on  the  Love  of  God. 
The  argument  may  perhaps  be  stated  as  follows.  If 
we  look  at  the  natural  world,  many  of  the  arrangements 
seem  to  us  at  first  sight  incompatible  with  that  world's 
being  the  work  of  a  God  who  is  at  once  perfectly  wise 
and  perfectly  good ;  but  these  objections,  such  as  they 
are,  to  a  large  extent  disappear  if  we  bear  in  mind  the 
facts :  first,  that  this  world  is  a  part  of  and  related  to 
an  infinitely  wider  whole  or  scheme,  of  which  we  know 
at  most  a  very  little  corner,  of  which  we  can  conse- 
quently form  no  adequate  conception ;  but  things  and 
arrangements  which,  from  our  very  narrow  point  of  view, 
and  in  relation  to  our  small  concerns,  may  appear  objec- 
tionable, we  can  easily  understand  may,  in  relation  to 
that  larger  whole,  be  desirable  or  even  necessary, — 
necessary,  i.e.,  as  means  to  ends  which,  could  we  view 
the  whole,  we  might  see  to  be  desirable.  In  the  second 
place,  it  is  easily  intelligible  that  it  may  be  desirable 


176    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


for  the  whole  that  it  should  be  governed  by  fixed  and 
invariable  laws;  but  if  we  assume  such  laws  to  be 
desirable,  then  it  is  certain  that  in  individual  cases 
hardships  will  result  from  their  operation;  wliile 
arbitrary  interference  with  them  to  prevent  such  cases 
of  hardship  might  easily,  we  can  also  see,  result  in 
greater  evils  than  those  which  it  was  invoked  to 
cure.  Now,  what  is  true  of  God's  natural  government, 
may  very  well  hold  true  equally,  or  even  in  a  greater 
degree,  of  His  moral  government.  There  is  much  too 
that  points  to  the  fact  that  God's  moral  goverimient,  like 
His  natural,  is  a  scheme  or  plan  extending  to  the  uni- 
verse as  a  whole, — a  scheme  or  plan  of  which  we  can 
know  or  imderstand  but  a  small  and  even  trifling  part. 
When,  therefore,  there  occurs  in  God's  moral  govern- 
ment of  the  world  anything  which  strikes  us  as  arbitrary, 
or  contrary  to  what  seem  to  us  the  principles  of  good- 
ness and  justice,  the  reasonable  inference  to  draw  is 
that  this  apparent  contradiction  results  from  our  ignor- 
ance of  God's  scheme  or  plan  as  a  whole,  an  ignorance 
which  makes  it  quite  probable  that  what  seems  to  us 
unjust  or  arbitrary  may  be  perfectly  explicable  by,  and 
even  have  a  necessary  place  in,  God's  whole  plan  or 
scheme.  In  this  way  it  comes  to  pass  that  our  ignor- 
ance, and  the  narrow  confines  of  our  knowledge,  may  be 
pleaded  as  a  true  and  adequate  answer  to  many  objec- 
tions which  may  be  urged  against  God's  mode  of  moral 
government ;  and  this  holds  equally  though,  within  the 
limits  to  which  our  knowledge  extends,  we  may  be  able 
to  trace  immistakable  evidences  of  God's  moral  govern- 
ment, of  His  justice  and  goodness.  The  general  result 
to  which  these  considerations  lead  is  thus  summed  up  by 
Butler :  ^  "  The  observations  above  made  lead  us  to  con- 
sider this  little  scene  of  human  life,  in  which  we  are  so 
busily  engaged,  as  having  a  reference,  of  some  sort  or 

'  Analogy,  i.  viii.  §  1. 


THE  "analogy,"  part  I 


177 


other,  to  a  much  larger  plan  of  things.  Whether  we  are 
any  way  related  to  the  more  distant  parts  of  the  bound- 
less universe  into  which  we  are  brought  is  altogether 
imcertain.  But  it  is  evident  that  the  course  of  things 
which  comes  within  our  view  is  connected  with  somewhat 
past,present,and  future  beyond  it.  So  that  we  are  placed, 
as  one  may  speak,  in  the  middle  of  a  scheme,  not  a  tixed 
but  a  progressive  one,  every  way  incomprehensible ; 
incomprehensible  in  a  manner  equally  with  respect  to 
what  has  been,  what  now  is,  and  what  shall  be  hereafter. 
And  this  scheme  cannot  but  contain  in  it  somewhat  as 
wonderful  and  as  much  beyond  our  thought  and  con- 
ception as  anything  in  that  of  religion." 

Scarcely  any  chapter  in  the  Analogy  is  more  illustra- 
tive of  the  general  tone  and  temper  of  Butler's  mind 
than  is  this  seventh.  As  we  have  noticed,  the  main 
outline  of  it  had  been  already  sketched  in  his  sermon 
on  the  Ignorance  of  Man,  so  that  the  contents  of  it  had 
been  long  in  his  thoughts.  The  Deists  with  whom  he 
was  arguing  were  pre-eminently  arrogant  intellectually ; 
they  were  positive  about  their  own  conclusions,  which 
they  identified  with  the  unassailable  results  of  the 
ripest  human  reason ;  for  this  reason,  again,  they  made 
excessive  claims,  they  recognised  no  limits  to  its  powers, 
but  regarded  it  as  competent  to  pronounce  magisterially 
and  finally  upon  the  fitness  or  unfitness  of  all  things 
in  the  universe,  to  tell  us,  as  it  were  ex  cathedra, 
what  becomes  and  what  does  not  become  God  Himself. 
To  such  a  temper  that  of  Butler  stands  diametrically 
opposed.  His  intellect  was  pre-eminently  humble  and 
cautious  ;  if  within  given  limits  reason  is  to  be  recognised 
as  the  final  judge  and  arbiter,  those  limits,  he  held,  are 
easily  outstepped ;  and  beyond  those  limits  the  a  jiriori 
prepossessions  of  reason  itself  are  an  unsafe  and  fallacious 
guide ;  at  every  point  the  supposed  dictates  of  reason 
need  to  be  controlled  and  tested  by  fact ;  and  in  regions 

12 


178    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


where  we  have  no  facts  to  go  upon,  no  actual  experi- 
ence to  appeal  to,  our  safest  course  is  to  admit  oxrr 
ignorance,  and  to  abstain  from  speculation.  For  he  is 
profoundly  convinced  that  there  are  "more  things" 
(probably  many  more  things), "  in  heaven  and  earth  than 
are  dreamt  of  in  "  our  "  philosophy."  Within  the  limits 
of  earth,  and  for  all  practical  affairs,  reason  is  a  suffi- 
cient and  satisfactory  guide;  beyond  those  limits  its 
light  fails  us,  and  we  are  like  mariners  going  to  sea 
without  a  compass.  We  dare  not,  then,  as  reasonable 
men,  lay  down  laws  for  God,  what  He  may  do  and 
what  He  may  not  do ;  this  is  mere  folly  and  presumption ; 
our  wisdom  will  be  to  ascertain,  by  the  light  of  experi- 
ence, what  He  has  actually  ordered  and  enjoined,  and 
analogy  will  help  us  to  use  the  light  thus  gained  to 
lighten  up  the  dimness  of  the  future  and  the  obscurity 
of  the  remote.  More  than  this,  in  Butler's  view,  the 
human  intellect  cannot  wisely  attempt.  Nor  can  there 
be  any  doubt  that,  here  at  anyrate,  Butler  both  exhibits 
the  more  admirable  temper,  and  also  gets  the  best  of 
the  argument.  In  Ms  reverence  for  facts,  in  his  un- 
willingness to  go  beyond  then-  evidence  and  suggestions, 
Butler  exhibits  the  true  scientific  spirit;  it  was  the 
Deists,  and  not  he,  who,  in  spite  of  theii'  scientific  pre- 
tensions, should  properly  be  regarded  as  traitors  to 
reason,  and  the  victims  of  theu-  own  metaphysical 
figments. 


CHAPTER  VI 


THE  "  ANALOGY,"  PART  II 

The  second  part  of  the  Analogy  deals  far  more  directly 
with  current  deistical  objections  than  the  first  part  had 
done.  So  far  as  natural  religion  went,  the  Deists,  or 
at  anyrate  the  more  orthodox  among  them,  were  in- 
clined to  emphasise  and  exaggerate  its  claims  rather 
than  destroy  them.  Many  of  them  followed  Clarke  in 
regarding  the  dictates  of  natural  reUgion  as  being  of 
the  natm'e  of  necessary  truths,  truths  which  it  was 
impossible  or  self-contradictory  to  deny.  Even  the  doc- 
trine of  the  soul's  immortality  itself  was  by  not  a  few 
of  them  supposed  to  be  of  this  character.  Butler's  task 
hitherto  has  been  to  moderate  the  excessive  claims 
which  had  been  set  up  on  behalf  of  the  truths  of 
natural  religion ;  to  show  that  a  more  safe  if  humbler 
ground  for  accepting  their  validity  was  to  be  found  in 
the  analogies  that  were  presented  to  them  by  the 
admitted  facts  and  laws  of  the  natural  world  than  in 
the  somewhat  doubtful  and  fictitious  necessity  which 
had  been  too  hastily  claimed  for  them.  And  granted 
there  were  objections,  as  there  certainly  were,  to  some 
of  the  so-called  truths  of  natural  religion,  and  difficulties 
in  the  way  of  accepting  them,  the  best  answer  to  be 
given  to  such  objections  and  difficulties  consisted  (he 
urged)  in  pointing  out  the  similar  difficulties  and 
objections  which  confront  us  in  the  arrangements  of 
nature,  directly  we  attempt  to  regard  these  as  the  work 


180    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


and  ordinances  of  a  beneficent  and  omnipotent  Creator. 
Probably  the  best  solution  of  all  such  difficulties  and 
objections  is  to  be  found  in  both  cases,  as  pointed  out  in 
the  last  chapter,  in  the  consideration  that  we  know,  and 
by  the  Umitations  of  our  powers  are  only  capable  of 
knowing,  a  very  small  fraction  or  corner  of  the  whole 
scheme  or  plan  of  God,  as  worked  out  in  the  universe  as 
a  whole,  whether  natural  or  moral ;  and  that  that  which 
strikes  us,  wlieu  we  regard  only  a  part,  as  arbitrary  or 
objectionable  would,  if  we  could  look  at  it  from  the  point 
of  view  of  the  whole  plan,  be  seen  by  us  to  be  for  the  best, 
and  even  necessary.  But  in  the  second  part  of  his  work 
Butler  parts  company  entirely  with  those  who  may  have 
been  inclined  to  follow  him  so  far.  The  object  of  his 
antagonists  in  crying  up  natural  religion  had  been  to  cry 
down  revealed;  there  was,  they  said,  no  need  for  it ;  if  it 
served  any  purpose  at  all,  it  served  only  to  confirm  the 
conclusions  reached  independently  by  reason ;  when  it 
was  at  variance  with  those  conclusions,  it  was  necessarily 
false  ;  when  it  attempted  to  soar  beyond  them,  it  became 
unmeaning.  As  against  such  \-iews  the  argument  of 
the  second  part  of  the  Analogy  is  dii'ected.  It  had 
been  shown  in  the  first  part  that  the  so-called  truths 
of  natural  rehgion  are  open  to  many  of  the  same,  or 
similar,  exceptions  and  objections  as  are  m-ged  against 
the  truths  of  revealed  religion ;  but  these  latter,  he  now 
contends,  present  the  same  sort  of  analogies  to  the  order 
and  course  of  nature  as  do  the  former ;  and  if  it  be  a 
sufficient  answer  to  the  objections  taken  against  the 
system  of  natural  religion,  that  they  may  be  paralleled 
by  the  arrangements  of  nature,  which  the  Deists  them- 
selves recognised  as  the  work  of  an  all-wise  and  aU-good 
God,  and  if  a  sufficient  explanation  of  these  is  to  be  found 
in  the  fact  that  man  cannot  comprehend  the  whole  of 
God's  plan,  and  that  that  plan  is  carried  out  by  means 
of  general  laws,  then  a  similar  line  of  defence  must  be 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PART  II 


181 


equally  valid  against  the  objections  that  are  so  commonly 
brought  against  revealed  religion.  It  is  to  drawing  out 
this  argument  in  detail  that  the  second  part  of  the 
Analogy  is  mainly  directed ;  but  at  the  close  Butler 
adds,  by  way  of  appendix,  a  chapter  on  "  The  Particular 
Evidence  for  Christianity,"  and  in  his  final  pages  answers 
some  objections  which  he  thinks  likely  to  be  made 
against  his  method  of  arguing  from  the  analogy  of  nature 
to  religion.  I  propose  in  the  following  sections  to  ex- 
amine separately  the  main  positions  which  he  advances. 

I. 

There  was  probably  no  argument  more  frequently 
advanced  in  depreciation  of  Christianity,  and  of  revela- 
tion generally,  by  the  Deists  than  tliat  a  revelation  was 
unnecessary  and  superfluous.^  But  if  superfluous,  many 
went  on  to  argue,  then  it  becomes  incredible ;  for  we 
can  hardly  suppose  that  God  could  have  vouchsafed  a 
revelation  which  was  to  be  of  no  practical  use.  Many 
of  those  who  did  not  go  so  far  as  this  were  still  in- 
clined to  make  light  of  revelation  and  to  treat  it  with 
neglect,  on  the  ground  that  men  could  by  "  the  light 
of  nature  "alone  get  on  sufficiently  well,  and  that  revealed 
religion,  as  compared  with  reason,  was  of  comparatively 
little  value  and  use.  It  is,  then,  to  the  consideration 
of  the  importance  of  revealed  religion,  and  of  Christianity 
in  particular,  that  the  first  chapter  is  addressed  ;  for  men 
will  scarcely  be  brought  seriously  to  consider  that,  of  the 
importance  of  which  they  are  not  first  convinced.^ 

The  contention  that  men  can  get  on  sufficiently  well 
by  the  liglit  of  reason  alone,  apart  from  all  revelation, 
seems  sufficiently  disproved,  Butler  reasons,  by  the 
condition  of  the  the  heathen  world.  How  debased  for 
the  most  part  are  the  heathen  notions  of  God:  how 
'  Above,  Chap.  IV.  p.  138.  -  Analogy,  ii.  i.  §  2. 


182    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


imperfect  or  erroneous  are  their  conceptions  of  their 
moral  duties  and  obligations.  How  little  have  they 
attended  to,  or  retained,  that  law  of  natm'e,  that  original 
revelation,  which  Butler,  in  common  with  most  of  his 
contemporaries,  believed  to  have  been  once  written  on 
theu'  hearts.  If  here  and  there  a  man  of  superior  intelli- 
gence, or  of  higher  moral  character  than  his  neighbours, 
has  reasoned  out  for  himself  the  whole  moral  code,and  has 
striven  to  practise  it,  how  hard  has  he  found  it  to  make 
way  against  the  prejudices  and  passions  of  those  about 
him,  or  to  obtain  under  such  circumstances  any  accept- 
ance for  the  Gospel  which  he  has  to  proclaim !  ^  The 
light  of  nature  is  thus  seen  by  the  teaching  of  experience 
not  to  be  sufficient  for  man's  guidance  on  earth.  But 
further  than  this,  the  importance  of  Christianity  will 
be  established  if  we  consider  the  double  relation  in 
which  it  may  be  regarded  as  standing  to  the  law  of 
nature.  On  the  one  hand,  it  is  an  authoritative  republica- 
tion of  that  law ;  on  the  other,  it  supplements  it  by  pro- 
viding man  with  additional  information.  Christianity 
reinforces  the  law  of  nature  by  adding  further  evidence 
to  that  on  which,  in  the  first  instance,  that  law  rests ;  it 
makes  that  law  plainer  on  many  points  ;  it  provides  in 
the  Christian  Church  an  organised  society,  and  a  visible 
machinery,  du-ectly  intended  to  draw  attention  to  its 
claims,  and  to  see  that  it  occupies  a  due  place  in  the 
education  of  the  young.  Thus,  while  without  Christianity 
tlie  law  of  nature  is  apt  to  be  obliterated  or  ignored,  in 
Christian  countries  it  can  scarcely  fail  to  command  the 
attention  which  it  deserves.  Nor  does  the  fact  that 
Christianity  has  been  perverted  affect  the  validity  of 
this  argument.  Any  system  may  claim  to  be  judged 
not  by  its  perversions,  but  by  that  which  it  is  capable 
of  effecting.  Eeason  itself  has  not  always  been  rightly 
or  wisely  used. 

'  Analogy,  ll.  i.  §  8. 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PAET  II  183 


In  the  second  place,  the  Christian  revelationsiij9pfcme?i<s 
the  light  of  nature.  It  tells  us  of  human  corruption  and 
"of  a  particular  dispensation  of  Providence,  carrying 
oa  by  His  Son  and  Spirit,  for  the  recovery  and  salvation 
of  mankind,  who  are  represented  in  Scripture  to  be  in 
a  state  of  ruin."  ^  Now,  if  we  accept  this  revelation  as 
true,  the  acceptance  of  it  gives  rise  to  and  entails  on 
our  part  certain  duties,  moral,  and  not  merely  positive 
in  character,  owed  by  us  men,  in  virtue  of  the  relation 
in  which  we  stand  to  them,  to  the  Son  and  to  the 
Spirit.  These  duties,  like  other  duties,  cannot  be  ne- 
glected or  disobeyed  without  peril  and  loss.  They  are 
the  "  religious  regards  "  of  "  reverence,  honour,  love,  trust, 
gratitude,  fear,  hope,"^  which  we  ought  to  entertain 
both  towards  the  Son  and  towards  the  Spirit.  And  if, 
further,  God  has  provided  us  with  a  remedy  by  which 
we  can  escape  from  our  fallen  condition,  and  by  the 
use  of  which  we  can  render  ourselves  fit  for  a  higher  con- 
dition of  happiness  hereafter,  it  cannot  be  unimportant 
for  us  to  know  of  that  remedy,  or  to  be  informed  of  the 
course  of  conduct  by  which  we  may  fit  ourselves  for 
that  happiness.  Nor  are  we  to  think  (as  is  often  done) 
that  all  that  is  matter  of  revelation  is  of  the  nature  of 
positive  command,  and  is  therefore  of  slight  importance 
as  compared  with  the  moral  dictates  of  reason  and 
conscience.  Facts  known  by  revelation  may  give  rise 
to  moral  obligations,  just  as  moral  truths  may  require 
to  be  supplemented  by  positive  commands.  If  Jesus  be, 
as  revelation  asserts,  the  Son  of  God,  and  our  Eedeemer, 
love  and  gratitude  to  Him  are  matter  of  moral  obliga- 
tion ;  while  the  worship  of  God,  being  matter  of  moral 
obligation,  as  far  as  the  fact  of  worship  goes,  is  still 
matter  of  positive  command,  as  far  as  the  mode  in 
which  the  worship  is  to  be  performed  is  concerned. 
The  reason  why  obedience  to  positive  commands  is 

1  Analogy,  li.  i.  §  16.  ^  Loc.  cit.  §  20. 


184    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


Ijoth  in  the  Old  and  New  Testaments  made  little  of  as 
compared  with  obedience  to  moral  obligations,  is  this — 
that,  for  the  most  part,  it  is  easier  to  obey  positive 
precepts  than  to  perform  moral  duties,  and  men  are 
therefore  too  apt  to  excuse  themselves  for  the  nonper- 
formance of  the  latter  by  punctilious  obedience  to  the 
former ;  while  really  the  latter  are  of  the  more  certain 
and  nearer  obligation.  The  principle  enunciated  by  our 
Lord,  "  I  will  have  mercy  and  not  sacrifice,"  has  settled 
their  relative  importance  once  for  all ;  yet  the  fact  that 
moral  precepts  take  precedence  of  positive  rules  does  not 
absolve  us  from  the  necessity  of  obedience  to  the  latter ; 
if  it  can  be  shown  that  there  are  sufficient  groimds  for 
believing  that  such  commands  proceed  really  from  God, 
to  obey  them  becomes  then  matter  of  moral  obligation. 

Butler's  defence  of  the  importance  of  the  Christian 
revelation,  though  satisfactory  as  far  as  it  goes,  is  stiU 
somewhat  marred  by  the  utilitarian  and  limited  spirit  of 
his  time.  To  represent  Christianity  as  mainly  valuable, 
on  the  ground  that  it  helps  to  enforce  or  to  supplement 
the  light  of  nature,  is  to  behttle  its  value.  It  un- 
doubtedly does  this,  and  we  can  claim,  for  Christian 
nations  and  for  the  Christian  centuries,  a  distinct  gain 
in  point  of  practice  over  the  pagan  and  heathen  world, 
measured  in  part  by  the  disappearance  of  slavery,  by  the 
growth  of  philanthropy,  by  the  improvement  iu  domestic 
life,  and  in  the  standard  of  purity ;  but  to  those  who  have 
accepted  Christianity  in  any  real  sense  it  means  much 
more  than  this.  Their  whole  sense  of  their  relation  to 
God  is  completely  altered  in  Christ ;  the  Fatherhood  of 
God  acquires  for  them  a  new  meaning ;  their  love  of  God 
is  transformed,  their  sense  of  sin  deepened,  their  atti- 
tude to  life  and  the  business  of  Ufe  changed.  For 
them  the  question  "  Is  Christianity  important  ? "  scarcely 
needs  an  answer ;  their  difficulty  would  rather  be  to  con- 
ceive how  it  could  be  not  important.    And  Butler  had 


THE  "analogy,"  part  II  185 


himself,  as  we  gather  from  other  passages  in  his  writings, 
much  of  this  feeling  towards  Christianity ;  but  here, 
as  elsewhere,  he  was  anxious  to  meet  his  opponents 
not  on  his  ground  but  on  theirs ;  to  show  that,  if  we 
descend  to  the  lower  platform  and  regard  revealed 
religion  merely  as  an  adjunct  to  morality,  still,  even 
so,  we  cannot  afford  to  dispense  with  its  services ;  it 
is  an  important  adjunct,  one  without  which  morahty 
would  fare  but  ill,  even  if  it  survived  at  all. 

II. 

The  next  chapter,  which  deals  with  the  objection  felt 
and  brouglit  against  a  revelation  on  the  ground  that  it 
is  miraculous — miraculous  either  in  itself  as  being  a 
communication  made  by  God  to  man  quite  out  of  the 
ordinary  course  of  nature,  or  else  because  it  needs  and 
rests  upon  miracles  to  attest  its  reality  and  authenticity  ^ 
— seems  to  be  one  of  the  least  satisfactory  chapters  in 
tlie  whole  work.  Butler's  contention  in  it  is  that  the 
fact  that  revelation  discloses  to  us  matters  which  lie 
beyond  the  ordinary  reach  of  our  faculties  to  apprehend, 
and  is  in  this  sense  miraculous,  can  furnish  no  valid 
objection  against  it,  inasmuch  as  we  are  all  bound  to 
recognise  that  there  is  a  large  part  of  the  universe 
which  lies  quite  outside  the  reach  of  our  ordinary 
means  of  apprehension.  Our  faculties,  as  we  have  seen 
already,  carry  us  but  a  little  way  towards  a  knowledge 
of  the  universe  as  a  whole ;  that  God  should  by  extra- 
ordinary means  make  known  to  us  truths  which  Lie 
beyond  the  range  of  our  ordinary  means  of  information 
has  in  it  certainly  nothing  which  is  incredible  or 
opposed  to  analogy.  Nor  are  the  facts  which  are  thus 
made  known,  and  which  constitute  the  Christian  scheme 
taken  as  a  whole,  at  variance  with  the  analogies  pre- 
sented by  the  natural  and  moral  government  of  God. 

'  Analogy,  ii.  ii.  §  2. 


186    BISHOP  BUTLER;  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


This  is  a  position  which  the  next  chapters  are  designed 
to  establish.  While  thirdly,  if,  as  seems  probable,  God 
completed  creation  by  giving  man  a  primitive  revelation 
of  Himself,  this,  at  the  outset  of  things,  cannot  have  been 
contrary  to  the  course  of  nature — for  there  was  then  no 
course  of  nature  for  it  to  be  contrary  to,  nor  can  it  have 
been,  therefore,  opposed  to  analogy.  Lastly,  the  presump- 
tion against  the  occurrence  of  any  particular  event  is  be- 
fore its  occurrence  so  strong  that  the  presumption  against 
the  occurrence  of  a  miracle  can  scarcely  be  greater  than 
that  against  the  occurrence  of  any  other  particular  event, 
certainly  not  greater  than  against  the  occurrence  of  such 
events  as  we  recognise  to  be  strange  and  abnormal. 

It  is  to  the  last  two  arguments  that  exception  may 
reasonably  be  taken.  As  to  the  former  of  them,  the 
doctrine  that  man  had  an  original  revelation  made 
to  him,  is  one  which  Butler  deliberately  adopted,  not 
here  alone  but  throughout  his  writings.  The  doctrine 
meets  with  adherents  even  in  our  own  days;  and 
Butler  Is  probably  right  in  his  contention  that 
very  few  men  have  argued  out  or  reached  by  any 
conscious  process  of  reasoning  their  belief  in  a  God. 
But  while  we  admit  this,  the  view  which  would  now 
be  more  generally  adopted  is  that  man's  fundamental 
religious  beliefs  are  partly  unconscious  inferences  fi'om 
the  phenomena  of  the  external  world,  partly  the  direct 
result  of  his  moral  feelings  and  consciousness.  The 
belief  in  God  would  be  in  this  sense  natm-al  to  man,  in 
that  it  proceeds  from  his  primitive  instincts  and  un- 
conscious reasonings,  finding  expression  in  the  pro- 
phetic utterance  of  some  gifted  individual  touched  by 
the  Spirit  of  God  Himself :  it  is  a  revelation,  in  so  far 
as  man  did  not  consciously  argue  out  for  himself  the 
conclusion  which  he  accepts ;  but  it  is  not,  as  it  were, 
an  external  revelation  given  ah  extra  to  all  men  at  a 
definite  point  in  human  history. 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PAET  II  187 


It  is  the  final  argument,  however,  that  is  most 
open  to  question.  There  can  be,  Butler  says,  no 
special  presumption  against  a  miracle,  because  the 
presumption  against  the  occurrence  of  any  particular 
event  must,  till  that  event  actually  occuis,  always  be 
enormous.  But  surely  this  is  not  the  case ;  the  rising 
of  the  sun  to-morrow  morning  will  be  a  particular 
event,  yet  the  presumption  is  enormously  strong,  not 
against  its  occurrence,  but  against  its  non-occur- 
rence. And  why  ?  Because  we  know  that  there  are 
causes  in  operation  which,  unless  prevented,  will  bring 
that  event  about.  Even  the  appearance  of  a  man 
of  extraordinary  ability  or  character  like  Csesar  or 
Napoleon  is  not,  even  antecedentally  to  the  event,  as 
improbable  as  the  occurrence  of  a  miracle.  Why 
again  ?  Because  we  know  that  there  are  causes  actu- 
ally in  operation  on  the  earth  capable  of  producing  such 
a  result,  since  such  exceptional  men  have,  in  the  course 
of  history,  from  time  to  time  appeared.  A  miracle, 
on  the  other  hand,  regarded  as  a  merely  natural  event, 
is  almost  incredible ;  there  are  cx  hyfotliesi  no  causes 
in  existence  adequate  to  produce  it ;  the  presumption 
is  enormously  strong  against  it.  But  take  into  account 
the  moral  and  supernatural  world,  and  the  improbability 
to  a  great  extent  disappears.  But  this  is  so,  not  on  the 
ground  on  which  Butler  puts  it,  that  the  presumption 
is  equally  great  against  the  occurrence  of  any  par- 
ticular fact  or  event  before  it  has  actually  occurred — 
which  we  have  seen  is  not  the  case ;  but  because  in  a 
I'ersonal  God  we  recognise  a  cause  adequate  to  produce 
a  miracle,  and  in  the  attesting  of  a  revelation  to  man 
we  recognise  an  occasion  sufficiently  important  to 
justify,  at  the  bar  of  reason,  the  permission,  or  the 
actual  working,  of  a  miracle.  If  we  have  reason 
on  independent  grounds  for  the  belief  that  God  sent 
His  Son  to  redeem  the  world  (and,  after  all,  nineteen 


188    BISHOP  BUTLEE:  PIIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


centuries  of  Christian  experience  and  the  permanence 
and  prevalence  of  the  Christian  Church  furnish  some 
basis  of  independent  testimony  to  the  fact),  it  cannot 
be  impossible  that  that  Son  should  have  had  the 
power  of  working  such  miracles  as  the  New  Testa- 
ment attributes  to  Him ;  while  the  authorisation  of  the 
claims  which  He  made  would  furnish  adequate  reason 
for  the  display  of  the  mu-aculous  powers  which  He 
possessed.  Such,  rather  than  the  more  technical  grounds 
which  Butler  advances,  seem  to  be  the  reasons  on  which 
we  should  claim  for  the  evidence  advanced  in  support 
of  miracles  a  right  to  be  listened  to  and  considered. 

III. 

The  subject  of  which  Butler  treats  in  the  third 
chapter  is  thus  stated  by  him,  "  Of  om-  incapacity  of 
judging  what  were  to  be  expected  in  a  revelation ;  and 
the  credibility,  from  analogy,  that  it  must  contain 
things  appearing  liable  to  objections."  This  chapter, 
with  the  next,  forms  the  kernel  of  the  second  part 
of  the  Analogy.  His  object  in  it  is  to  show  that 
objections  against  the  substance  of  Christianity,  as  dis- 
tinct from  objections  against  the  evidence  for  it,  are 
in  a  great  measure  frivolous ;  ^  that  the  claim  which 
the  Deists  set  up  for  reason  to  be  a  competent  judge 
of  the  contents  of  revelation,  and  consequently  to  have 
a  right  to  reject  whatever  does  not  at  once  meet  with 
its  approval,  cannot  be  allowed.  This  line  of  argimient 
(which  Butler  is  careful  to  observe  does  not  interfere 
with  the  legitimate  claim  of  reason)  imdermines  the 
whole  Deist  position ;  it  shows,  if  it  can  be  made  good, 
that  the  Deists  had  overrated  the  powers  of  the 
instrument  they  had  at  their  command,  that  they  were 
attempting  to  use  reason  for  a  purpose  it  was  incom- 
petent to  serve.    Nature  the  Deists  admitted  to  be  the 

1  Analogy,  ii.  iii.  §  2. 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PART  II  189 


work  of  a  perfectly  wise  and  good  God.  Yet  in  nature 
we  are  constantly  meeting  with  arrangements  that  are 
not  such  as  we  should  have  expected  from  such  an 
author,  nor  are  they  always  even  such  as  approve 
themselves  directly  to  our  reason.  Can  we  be  sur- 
prised if  something  of  the  same  kind  should  occur 
within  the  sphere  covered  by  revelation  ?  Need  we 
wonder  if,  here  too,  things  that  we  should  not  have 
expected  are  to  be  met  with,  things  that  will  not  at 
once  approve  themselves  to  our  judgment  and  reason  ? 
And  "  these  observations,  relating  to  the  whole  of  Chris- 
tianity, are  applicable,"  continues  Butler,  "  to  inspira- 
tion in  particular.  As  we  are  in  no  sort  judges  before- 
hand by  what  laws  or  rules,  in  what  degree,  or  by  what 
means  it  were  to  have  been  expected  that  God  would 
naturally  instruct  us,  so  upon  supposition  of  His  afford- 
ing us  light  and  instruction  by  revelation,  additional  to 
what  He  has  afforded  us  by  reason  and  experience,  we 
are  in  no  sort  judges  by  what  methods  and  in  what 
proportion  it  were  to  be  expected,  that  this  super- 
natural light  and  instruction  would  be  afforded  us.''^ 
The  argiiment  put  in  other  words  is  this.  Just  as  it 
is  impossible  to  say  why  God  should  have  afforded  us 
those  particular  means  of  natural  knowledge  and  that 
particular  amount  of  information,  through  our  senses, 
reason,  and  experience,  which,  as  a  matter  of  fact.  He 
has  afforded  us, — since  He  might  equally  have  given  us 
more  or  might  have  given  us  less ; — and  just  as,  again, 
we  could  not  have  predicted  beforehand  the  manner 
in  which  this  knowledge  or  information  would  be  ac- 
quired, and  whether  all  men  would  acquire  it  equally ; 
so,  if  extra  knowledge  were  to  be  imparted  by  means 
of  revelation,  it  seems  obvious  that  we  should  not  be 
able  to  judge  a  priori  either  of  the  amount  or  kind  of 
knowledge  which  would  be  so  imparted,  nor  how  it 

'  Analogy,  ii.  iii.  §  7. 


190    BISHOP  BUTLEE:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


would  be  imparted,  nor  how  the  knowledge  to  be 
imparted  would  be  communicated  or  preserved.  But 
if  we  are  thus  incapable  of  judging  beforehand  what  a 
revelation  was  likely  to  be,  it  seems  absurd,  when  a 
revelation  has  been  given,  to  find  fault  with  it  on  the 
ground  that  either  the  revelation  itself,  or  the  mode  of 
imparting  and  preserving  it,  are  not  such  as  we  should 
have  expected  them  to  be. 

Secondly,  in  the  case  of  natural  knowledge,  neither  is 
the  amount  of  it,  nor  the  order  in  which  .truths  have 
been  discovered,  nor  the  methods  of  discovery  by 
which  they  have  been  learnt,  exactly  such  as  we 
should  have  anticipated;  e.g.  those  truths  which  are 
of  the  most  immediate  benefit  to  men  are  by  no  means 
those  which  are  first  learnt,  or  even  most  easily  appre- 
hended, and  we  should  hardly  have  expected  A  priori 
that  language,  the  instrument  for  communicating  truth, 
would  be  liable  to  such  defects  as,  in  point  of  fact,  we 
know  it  to  be  subject  to.  It  need  not  surprise  us,  there- 
fore, if  the  additional  information  conveyed  by  revelation 
is  not  precisely  of  the  kind,  of  the  amount,  or  the 
degree  which  we  should  have  expected. 

Nor,  thirdly,  is  the  fact,  that  those  through  whom  the 
revelation  came  to  men  were  not  always  such  as  made  a 
good  use  of  their  exceptional  gifts,  any  valid  proof  that 
the  revelation  made  through  their  agencyis  not  a  genuine 
one.  Those  who  have  been  endowed  with  the  greatest 
gifts  for  acquiring  natural  knowledge  have  not  been 
always  those  who  have  made  the  best  use  of  the  know- 
ledge which  they  have  acquired.  In  the  one  case  and 
in  the  other  God  has  not  seen  good  to  interfere  with  the 
free  will  and  responsibiUty  of  individual  men ;  and,  as  He 
allows  them  free  will,  there  is  of  necessity  a  possibility 
that  they  may  misuse  their  gifts.  And,  fourthly,  if 
it  be  objected  that  Scripture  represents  the  Christian 
dispensation  to  be  a  remedial  scheme,  and  that  it  is 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PART  II  191 


incredible  that  so  many  ages  should  have  been  allowed 
to  pass  "  before  a  matter  of  such  a  sort,  of  so  great  and 
so  general  importance,  was  made  known  to  mankind ; 
and  then  that  it  should  have  been  made  to  so  small 
a  part  of  them,"  ^ — and  this  was  one  of  the  objections  on 
which  the  Deists  laid  the  greatest  stress, — to  this  it  may- 
be answered  that,  in  the  case  of  the  physical  diseases 
from  which  men  suffer,  "  the  remedies  existing  in  nature 
have  been  unknown  to  mankind  for  many  ages,  are 
known  but  to  few  now,  probably  many  valuable  ones 
are  not  known  yet " ;  ^  that  such  remedies  are  often 
difficult  of  application,  and  when  they  are  most  needed 
are  constantly  not  to  be  obtained.  "  In  a  word,  the 
remedies  which  nature  has  provided  for  diseases  are 
neither  certain,  perfect,  nor  universal.  Nor  can  we 
reasonably  expect  that  they  should  be  so,  since  to 
expect  this  would  be  equivalent  to  expecting  that  there 
should  be  no  diseases  at  all  to  require  a  remedy."^ 
Fifthly,  in  the  last  place,  while  admitting  that  the 
province  of  reason  is  to  judge  first  of  the  sufficiency 
of  the  evidence  for  a  revelation,  and  then  of  the  moral- 
ity of  the  revelation  itself,  Butler  maintains  with  refer- 
ence to  this  last  point  that,  while  there  are  particular 
acts  enjoined  or  commended  in  Scripture  which,  if  done 
by  men  without  the  special  command  of  God  to  perform 
them,  would  be  immoral,  yet  the  fact  that  this  command 
has  been  given  entirely  alters  their  character,  and  con- 
verts what  would  have  been  immoral  into  legitimate  or 
even  praiseworthy  acts.  If  we  admit  that  such  acts 
are  in  a  special  way,  as  they  undoubtedly  are,  liable 
to  abuse  by  being  mischievously  copied  without  any 
sufficient  divine  warrant,  still  this  only  amounts  to  say- 
ing that  revelation,  hke  everything  else,  is  liable  to  be 
put  to  a  wrong  use,  and  so  forms  part  of  our  trial  here.* 
To  most  of  Butler's  positions  in  this  chapter  no 

>  Analogy,  il.  iii.  §  23.     ^         g  24.       Tbid.  §§  24,  25.     ^  Ibid.  §  28. 


192    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


exception  can  be  taken,  and  he  must  be  acknowledged 
to  have  made  out  on  them  a  strong  case  against  his 
deistical  opponents.  His  remarks  on  inspii-ation  in 
particular  seem  to  have  a  special  value  and  pertinence 
for  us  now.  His  contention,  that  since  we  are  not  good 
judges  beforehand  of  the  amount,  degree,  and  kind  of 
revelation  which  was  likely  to  be  vouchsafed  to  men, 
we  are  bound  loyally  to  accept  that  kind  and  amount 
of  it  which  reason  and  experience  convince  us  have 
been  actually  given,  should  furnish  us  with  real  help 
in  meeting  the  perplexities  which  recent  criticism  has 
raised  respecting  the  amount  and  kind  of  inspiration 
of  the  different  parts  or  books  of  the  Old  Testament.  If 
the  inspiration  of  these  books  is  not  of  the  amount  or 
kind  we  had  anticipated,  or  tradition  and  prejudice  had 
led  us  to  expect,  why  should  we  complain  ?  If  even 
they  have  been  constructed  differently  from  what  we  had 
supposed,  being,  as  is  now  often  affirmed,  not  the  work 
of  a  single  contemporary  author,  but  collected  in  later 
times  from  a  variety  of  different  soui'ces  and  traditions, 
still  even  so,  we  are  not,  as  Butler  says,  in  a  position  to 
deny  a  priori  that  this  can  possibly  be  the  case.  We 
must  bow  to  the  facts  if  the  facts  are  plamly  and 
sufficiently  established.  Inspiration,  we  must  remem- 
ber, does  not  cease  to  be  real  because  it  is  not  of  the 
amount  or  kind  which  we  once  thought  it  to  be,  nor  do 
the  Old  Testament  books  cease  to  contain  a  revelation 
even  though  they  should  be  proved  to  have  been  pro- 
duced in  a  different  way  from  what  we  had  once  supposed. 
We  have  no  means  of  judging  of  inspiration  apart  from 
the  inspired  books  themselves ;  and  the  only  safe  com-se 
to  adopt  under  these  circumstances  is  to  study  humbly 
and  sincerely  the  phenomena  the  writings  actually 
present.  While  we  need  not  accept  as  proved  crude 
theories  supported  by  little  evidence,  we  may  not,  on 
the  other  hand,  shut  our  eyes  to  well-established  results. 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PAET  II  193 


even  though  these  should  conflict  with  traditional  and 
unquestioned  beliefs. 

The  only  point  on  which  Butler's  teaching  seems 
seriously  to  conflict  with  our  modern  notions  is  the 
solution  he  gives  of  the  moral  difficulties  presented 
by  parts  of  the  Old  Testament  history.  While  admit- 
ting that  reason  requires  that  the  principles  embodied 
in  any  supposed  revelation  should  be  in  harmony  with 
the  dictates  of  the  moral  law,  with  justice,  veracity, 
purity,  and  good-will,  yet  he  maintains  that  individual 
acts  contravening  these  principles  may  still  be  per- 
mitted if  they  are  done  in  obedience  to  a  clear  and 
well-attested  command  of  God.  He  cites  the  partial 
extermination  of  the  Canaanite  nations  by  the  Israel- 
ites as  a  case  in  point.  This,  he  implies,  though  an 
act  which  would  otherwise  have  been  wrong,  was  yet 
rendered  justifiable  in  the  Israelites  by  its  being  done 
in  accordance  with  an  express  command  of  God.  But 
in  the  way  of  accepting  such  an  explanation  there  is  a 
double  difficulty.  First,  it  is  difficult  to  believe  that 
an  act  which  would  have  been  otherwise  inmioral  for 
the  doers  of  it  can  have  been  expressly  commanded  by 
God ;  and  secondly,  to  admit  the  principle  would  be  to 
open  the  door  to  the  justification  of  all  kinds  of  immoral 
acts,  if  only  these  were  done  in  the  name  of  religion. 
For  in  all  ages  men  have  been  only  too  apt  to  persuade 
themselves  that  the  wrong  and  cruel  acts  they  have  com- 
mitted in  the  name  of  religion  have  been  done  in  accord- 
ance with  a  supposed  direct  command  of  God.  It  was 
a  perception  of  this  fact  that  made  the  poet  exclaim — 
"  Tantum  religio  potuit  suadere  malorum." 

It  is  not  thus  that  we  can  escape  the  difficulties 
which  the  imperfections  of  Old  Testament  morality  at 
different  points  present.  Surely  the  doctrine  of  develop- 
ment in  revelation  furnishes  a  truer  and  a  safer  method 
13 


194    BISHOP  BUTLEK:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


of  escape.  God  revealed  Himself  to  the  fathers  by 
divers  portions  and  in  divers  manners  ;  ^  and  we  must 
not  expect  in  those  who  were  living  in  the  twilight  of 
a  barbarous  age  and  an  imperfect  revelation  the  perfect 
knowledge  of  God's  will  which  we  enjoy  who  walk  in 
the  full  light  of  the  Gospel  dispensation.  To  the 
Israelites,  still  fierce  and  brutal,  only  lately  emanci- 
pated from  slavery,  the  extermination  of  their  enemies, 
who  were  also  the  enemies  of  God,  might  well  present 
itself  as  an  imperative  duty,  and  so  a  divine  command : 
we  have  come  to  see  that  there  is  a  more  excellent  way ; 
and  that,  if  we  are  still  bound  to  fight  with  our  enemies 
and  to  defend  a  just  cause,  yet  it  is  our  duty  to  spare 
those  who  yield,  and  those  who,  like  women  and  children, 
are  incapable  of  defending  themselves. 

The  fourth  chapter  is  a  kind  of  appendix  to,  or  con- 
tinuation of,  the  third.  In  the  third  Butler  had  shown 
that  we  are  not  competent  judges  beforehand  of  the 
degree,  method,  or  manner  of  the  revelation  which 
God  was  likely  to  vouchsafe  to  man ;  in  the  fourth  he 
advances  a  special  reason  to  show  that  we  are  not 
competent  judges  of  the  contents  of  a  revelation 
when  it  has  been  made.  The  reason  why  we  are  not  so 
is,  that  Christianity,  like  nature,  presents  every  appear- 
ance of  being  a  scheme  or  plan  which  is,  and  can  be, 
but  imperfectly  comprehended  by  us.  Now,  in  cases 
where  we  fail  to  realise  at  all,  or  imperfectly  realise,  the 
ends  aimed  at,  we  needs  cannot  judge  of  the  suitability 
of  the  means  (and  all  the  more  where  the  ends  are  sought 
to  be  obtained  through  the  operation  of  general  laws) ; 
and  it  follows  that,  as  this  seems  to  be  the  case  with 
regard  to  the  Christian  dispensation,  we  are  necessarily 
imperfect  judges  of  the  contents  of  that  dispensation. 
The  position,  then,  as  Butler  points  out,  is  very  similar 
in  the  sphere  of  grace  to  what  it  is  in  the  sphere  of 

^  Hebrews  i.  1. 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PART  II  195 


nature.  Just  as  (in  the  way  already  described^)  the 
apparent  anomalies  and  objectionable  features  which 
present  themselves  in  nature  are  probably  to  be  ex- 
plained by  the  consideration  that  nature  constitutes 
a  vast  scheme  or  plan,  the  larger  part  of  which  lies 
absolutely  beyond  our  ken,  so  the  apparent  anomalies 
and  objectionable  features  which  occur  in  the  Christian 
dispensation  are  most  likely  to  be  accounted  for  in  a 
similar  manner.  For  the  Christian  dispensation,  as  it 
has  its  roots  far  back  in  the  past,  so  has  its  consum- 
mation far  forward  in  the  future ;  and  the  part  of  it 
which  is  played  upon  this  earth  represents,  it  may 
well  be,  but  a  small  part  of  the  whole  scheme  or  plan 
involved  in  it.  It  need  not  surprise  us  then  if,  when 
we  know  so  little,  puzzling  features  should  present 
themselves  in  that  small  part  which  we  do  know ; 
and  if,  when  we  can  but  dimly  perceive  the  ends 
aimed  at,  the  means  adopted  shall  seem  open  now 
and  again  to  apparent  objection.^ 

And  to  a  more  special  objection  brought  against  the 
whole  working  of  Christianity  a  somewhat  similar  answer 
may  be  given.  For  it  is  sometimes  objected  that  the 
Christian  dispensation  supposes  God  to  make  use  of 
means  apparently  cumbrous  and  slow  in  operation,  to 
bring  about  the  ends  which  He  desires  to  compass. 
To  this  it  may  be  answered  that  in  nature,  equally  as 
in  the  Christian  dispensation,  God  seems,  at  least  to 
our  apprehension  (for  to  Him  who  sees  all  things  at 
once  the  distinction  may  be  absurd  and  meaningless), 
to  make  use  of  means  and  processes  which  are  slow  and 
even  apparently  cumbrous  to  bring  about  His  ends ; 
consequently  that  He  should  act  thus  in  saving  men 
from  their  sins,  and  perfecting  in  them  the  Christian 
character,  cannot  be  regarded  as  any  exception  to  the 
general  method  of  His  working.    "  The  mills  of  God 

1  Analogy,  i.  vii.  2  Jnalogy,  11.  iv.  §  6. 


196    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


grind  slowly,"  the  proverb  says,  "  but  they  grind  ex- 
ceeding small."  The  force  of  this  analogy  has  for  us 
been  greatly  strengthened  by  the  doctrines  of  "  natural 
selection  "  and  "  development " ;  if  the  physical  world 
has  been  brought  to  its  present  condition  by  such  age- 
long processes,  need  we  be  surprised  if  in  the  moral 
and  spiritual  sphere  the  action  of  God  should  appear 
slow  and  His  processes  there  also  cumbrous  and 
indirect  ?  Here,  too,  it  may  well  be  that  His  ways  are 
not  as  our  ways,  nor  His  thoughts  as  our  thoughts. 

IV. 

With  the  fifth  chapter  Butler  begins  the  discussion 
of  some  of  the  more  particular  objections  which  had 
been  brought  against  Christianity,  and  first  of  the  fun- 
damental but  difficult  question  of  the  mediatorial  work 
of  Christ,  and  the  redemption  of  the  world  by  Him. 

1.  That  there  are  many  analogies  in  the  natural 
world  for  the  mediatorial  work  of  Christ  it  is  not  hard 
to  establish.  Many  of  the  blessings  which  we  enjoy  have 
been  secured,  many  of  the  ills  which  would  otherwise 
befall  us  are  warded  off,  by  the  mediation  or  help  of 
others.  All  the  surroundings  on  which  so  much  of  our 
happiness  depends,  and  by  which  we  are  protected  against 
so  many  Uls,  are  the  result  of  the  energy  and  pains  of 
other  men  in  the  past ;  we  have  not  made  them  for  our- 
selves ;  to  others  we  are  indebted  for  our  nurture,  our 
education,  and  often  even  for  the  necessaries  of  life. 

2.  If  we  suppose  the  need  for  the  mediatorial  work 
of  Christ  to  arise  in  the  following  way,  we  can  easily 
imderstand  how  that  work  can  take  effect.  In  this 
life  we  see  that  many  of  the  ill  effects  of  folly,  or  of 
wrong-doing,  follow  from  our  acts  by  way  of  natural 
consequence ;  nor  are  these  ill  effects  always,  or 
perhaps  even  often,  mitigated  by  our  repentance ;  they 
continue  and  operate  whether  we  repent  or  not.  And 


THE  "analogy,"  PAET  II 


197 


yet  God  has  provided  in  many  cases  ways  through 
which  those  ill  effects  may  be  mitigated  or  even 
entirely  prevented,  and  thsit  sometimes  by  measures 
which  we  can  ourselves  adopt,  but  more  often  through 
the  help  and  instrumentality  of  others ;  such  arrange- 
ments we  call  part  of  the  mercifulness,  or  compassion, 
of  nature.  Now  suppose  that  in  another  life  ill  conse- 
quences,i.e.  punishments,  follow  on  sin  (as  they  well  may), 
by  way  of  natural  effects ;  it  will  not  follow  that  such  ill 
effects  can  be  averted,  or  even  mitigated,  by  repentance. 
Yet  here  again  analogy  seems  to  suggest  that  such  ill 
effects,  in  spite  of  the  failure  of  repentance  to  remove 
them,  may  still  be  mitigated  by  the  intervention  of  others, 
by  the  mediation  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Such  a  media- 
tion may  well  be  alike  appropriate,  requisite  and  effectual.^ 
3.  If  we  next  ask  how  this  mediation  was  effected, 
while  the  matter  must  remain  to  a  great  extent  a 
mystery  (and  Butler  frankly  admits  that  it  must  do 
so),  there  are  yet  three  principal  aspects  under  which 
in  Seriptiu-e  the  mediatorial  work  of  Christ  is  pre- 
sented ;  He  was,  in  the  first  place,  a  Prophet,  "  the  light 
of  the  world,"  "  the  light  that  lighteth  every  man  that 
cometh  into  the  world " ;  teaching  us  authoritatively 
what  we  are  to  do  and  what  to  avoid  if  we  would 
escape  from  "  the  wrath  to  come,"  the  ill  effects  which 
will  follow  wrong  -  doing  even  in  this  world.  In 
His  capacity  of  Prophet,  He  further  left  us  an  example 
— the  one  perfect  example — that  we  should  follow  in 
His  steps.^  He  was,  in  the  second  place,  a  King, 
founding  a  kingdom  which  "  is  not  of  this  world," — 
"  a  church  to  be  to  mankind  a  standing  memorial  of 
religion,  and  invitation  to  it :  which  He  promised 
to  be  with  always,  even  to  the  end."^  Thirdly,  he 
offered  Himself  as  a  propitiatory  sacrifice  and  made 
atonement  for  the  sins  of  the  world.    It  is  this  last 

'  Analogy,  il.  iv.  §  11.  x5_  sg 


198    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


aspect  of  Christ's  work  which  is,  as  Butler  admits,  the 
greatest  mystery,  and  the  one  to  which  exception  is 
most  often  taken.^  With  regard  to  it,  Butler  shelters 
himself,  in  the  first  place,  under  the  plea  of  ignorance.^ 
"  Since  we  neither  know  by  what  means  punishment  in 
the  future  state  would  have  followed  wickedness  in  this ; 
nor  in  what  manner  it  would  have  been  inflicted,  had  it 
not  been  prevented ;  nor  all  the  reasons  why  its  infliction 
would  have  been  needful;  nor  the  particular  nature 
of  that  state  of  happiness,  which  Christ  is  gone  to 
prepare  for  His  disciples;  and  since  we  are  ignorant 
how  far  anything  which  we  could  do  would,  alone 
and  of  itself,  have  been  effectual  to  prevent  that 
punishment  to  which  we  were  obnoxious,  and  recover 
that  happiness  which  we  had  forfeited;  it  is  most 
evident  we  are  not  judges,  antecedently  to  revelation, 
whether  a  mediator  was  or  was  not  necessary  to 
obtaia  those  ends;  to  prevent  that  future  pimish- 
ment,  and  bring  mankind  to  the  final  happiness  of 
their  natm-e."  And  further,  since,  granted  a  mediator 
to  be  necessary,  "  we  are  not  judges  of  the  whole 
nature  of  His  office,  or  the  several  parts  of  which 
it  consists ;  of  what  was  fit  and  requisite  to  be  assigned 
to  Him,  in  order  to  accomplish  the  ends  of  Providence 
in  the  appointment;"  it  follows  from  this,  "that  to 
object  against  the  expediency  or  usefulness  of  par- 
ticular things  revealed  to  have  been  done  or  suffered 
by  Him,  because  we  do  not  see  how  they  were  con- 
ducive to  those  ends,  is  highly  absurd.  Yet  nothing 
is  more  common  to  be  met  with  than  this  absui-dity."  ^ 

But  secondly,  the  idea  of  sinners  being  relieved  from 
the  consequences  of  their  sins,  by  an  act  of  vicarious 
suffering  voluntarily  undertaken  on  their  behalf,  finds 
many  counterparts  and  analogies  in  the  common  ex- 
perience of  everyday  life.    We  constantly  see  cases  in 

1  Analogy,  u.  v.  §  18.  ■  Hid.  §  20.  ^  Hid.  §  21. 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PART  II 


199 


which  the  innocent  suffer  for  the  guilty;  and  not 
unfrequently  it  happens  that  this  suffering,  voluntarily 
undertaken  by  the  innocent,  wards  off  from  the  guilty 
the  ill  effects  of  their  evil  deeds.  "  Men  by  their 
follies,  for  instance,  run  themselves  into  extreme  dis- 
tress ;  into  difficulties  which  would  be  absolutely  fatal 
to  them,  were  it  not  for  the  interposition  and  assist- 
ance of  others.  God  commands  by  the  law  of  nature 
that  we  afford  them  this  assistance,  in  many  cases  when 
we  cannot  do  it  without  very  great  pains,  and  labour, 
and  sufferings  to  ourselves."  ^  Yet  no  one  feels  in 
such  cases  that  injustice  is  done  when  the  innocent 
thus  suffers  for  the  guilty;  why,  then,  should  we  feel 
it  injustice  if  sinners  are  pardoned  in  virtue  of  the 
voluntarily  undertaken  sacrifice  of  Christ  ?  In  con- 
clusion he  thus  sums  up  the  matter :  "  Let  reason  be 
kept  to ;  and  if  any  part  of  the  Scripture  account  of 
the  redemption  of  the  world  by  Christ  can  be  shown 
to  be  really  contrary  to  it,  let  the  Scripture,  in  the 
name  of  God,  be  given  up;  but  let  not  such  poor 
creatures  as  we  go  on  objecting  against  an  infinite 
scheme,  that  we  do  not  see  the  necessity  or  usefulness 
of  all  its  parts,  and  call  this  reasoning ;  and,  which 
still  further  heightens  the  absiu-dity  in  the  present 
case,  parts  which  we  are  not  actively  concerned  in."  ^ 

So  far  Butler ;  and  yet,  since  in  spite  of  his  arguments 
and  the  strong  plea  which  he  urges  against  our  judging, 
when  we  are  not  confessedly  acquainted  with  all  the 
circumstances  of  the  case,  there  are  times  when  the 
idea  of  the  vicarious  suffering  of  Christ  seems  to  affect 
us  with  a  sense  of  moral  shock,  and  the  whole  subject 
becomes  to  us  once  more  involved  in  darkness,  it  may 
be  worth  while  to  add  to  what  Butler  has  here  said 
a  few  considerations  which  modern  discussions  have 
brought,  perhaps,  into  greater  clearness  and  prominence. 

^Analogy,  ii.  v.  §  22.  ^         §  24. 


200    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


1.  In  the  first  place,  attention  has  been  called  to, 
and  stress  laid  upon,  the  purely  voluntary  character 
of  the  sacrifice  of  Christ.  The  point  had  not  indeed 
been  neglected,  or  passed  over  by  Butler ;  the  utmost 
that  can  be  said  is  that  he  may  not  have  given  to  it 
the  prominence  v^hich  it  merits.  But  this  voluntarily 
undertaken  character  of  the  suffering  alters,  it  is  con- 
tended,!  the  whole  idea  of  vicarious  sacrifice,  removing 
it  into  an  entirely  new  sphere.  Where  an  innocent 
victim  is  involuntarily  substituted  for  a  guilty,  the 
main  point  to  be  secured  was  held  to  be  that  the 
pains  or  penalty  endured  by  the  innocent  should  be 
equal,  or  adequate,  to  those  which  were,  so  to  speak, 
due  from,  or  owed  by,  the  guilty.  But  where  an 
innocent  being  wards  off  by  volimtary  self-sacrifice 
the  punishment  due  to  the  guilty,  any  such  an  idea 
is  absolutely  excluded.  The  pardon  is  granted  in  this 
case,  not  because  the  claims  of  justice  are  held  to  be 
fully  satisfied,  but  because  the  love  which  has  been 
displayed  by  the  innocent  towards  the  guilty  ennobles 
and  wins  favour  for  the  guilty  man  himself.  So  may 
it  be  before  God  in  the  case  of  a  guilty  race.  The 
sacrifice,  the  advocacy  of  the  Son,  commends  those  who 
have  sinned  to  the  mercy  of  the  Father. 

2.  We  must  further  remember  that  in  the  Godhead 
the  unity  between  the  Father  and  the  Son  is  complete. 
The  compassion  that  is  expressed  through  the  Son  the 
Father  also  feels.  "  God  so  loved  the  world  that  He 
gave  His  only-begotten  Son  to  the  end  that  whoso- 
ever believeth  in  Him  should  not  perish,  but  have 
everlasting  life."^  It  is  not  as  if  the  Father  were 
all  justice,  the  Son  all  compassion.  Bather,  the  will 
of  the  Father  and  of  the  Son  is  so  completely  one 
that  whatever  the  Father  wills,  that  the  Son  also 
wills,  and  whatever  the  Son  wills  that  the  Father 

'Mozley's  University  Sermmis,  Sermon  VIIL        "St  John  iii.  36. 


THE  "analogy,"  part  II  201 


wills  too.  It  is  the  making  an  undue  separation 
between  the  Father  and  the  Son  which  constitutes 
more  than  half  the  difficulty  of  the  atonement.  If 
we  once  reahse  that  the  Father  gains,  as  it  were, 
the  power  to  forgive  sin  by  an  act  of  self-sacrificing 
love  in  sending  the  Son  to  die  for  sin,  then  the  moral 
difficulty  which  is  felt  in  that  God  seems  to  accept  the 
sacrifice  of  Christ  in  the  place  of  the  punishment  of  the 
sinner  is  almost  entirely  taken  away.  Put  the  doctrine 
as  St.  Paul  puts  it — "  God  was  in  Christ  reconciling  the 
world  unto  Himself,  not  reckoning  unto  them  their  tres- 
passes,"^ and  God's  pardon  of  fallen  man,  so  far  from 
exciting  in  us  a  sense  of  injustice,  cannot  but  command, 
as  it  has  commanded  throughout  Christendom,  feelings  of 
the  deepest  gratitude,  adoration,  reverence, and  devotion.^ 
3.  And  then  another  point  on  which  Butler  has, 
perhaps,  hardly  laid  sufficient  stress  is,  that  the  for- 
giveness which  the  sacrifice  of  Christ  procures  for 
mankind  is  not  an  unconditional  forgiveness.  For- 
giveness is  made  everywhere  throughout  the  New 
Testament  dependent  on  faith  in  Christ  and  on  repent- 
ance which  follows  from  the  possession  of  faith.  Without 
faith  and  repentance  Christ's  mediation  will  not  save 
us;  but  granted  this  condition  (and  the  self-sacrifice 
of  Christ  has  been  of  all  forces  in  the  world  the  one 
best  calculated  to  secure  this  condition),  then  God's 
forgiveness  can  never  be  described  as  an  unjust  for- 
giveness. Such  a  forgiveness  would  not  be  unjust  in 
the  case  of  a  man  towards  his  fellow-men.  To  forgive 
a  man  if  he  repent,  and  we  are  assured  of  the  genuine- 
ness of  his  repentance,  is  not  a  weakness  but  a  duty. 
How,  then,  shall  we  venture  to  affirm  that  a  forgiveness 
conditional  on  the  repentance  which  the  love  of  Christ 
calls  forth  can  be  unjust  in  God  ?  And  if,  f lu'ther,  we 
hold  that  the  punishment  of  sin  mainly  consists  in 
'2  Cor.  V.  19.  -  Moberly,  Atonement  and  Personalitij,  ch.  viii. 


202     BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


begetting  in  men  a  temper  which  renders  them  unfit 
for  the  enjoyment  of  the  presence  of  God, — and  this 
is  perhaps  as  definite  a  conception  of  the  nature  of 
future  punishment  as  we  are  able  to  form, — then  we 
can  understand  how  the  mediation  of  Christ  and  His 
voluntary  self-sacrilice  on  the  Cross  in  winning  men 
from  their  sins  delivers  them  also  at  the  same  time 
from  the  consequences  of  their  sins.  With  the  aboli- 
tion of  the  love  of  sin  the  evil  temper,  which  means 
alienation  from  and  hostility  to  God,  disappears  also. 
"  There  is  therefore  now  no  condemnation  for  them 
that  are  in  Christ  Jesus,  who  walk  not  after  the  flesh, 
but  after  the  Spirit."  For  they  have  received  "  the 
Spirit  of  adoption  whereby  we  cry  Abba,  Father."  ^  Xot 
that  I  would  venture  to  claim  that  any  such  suggestions 
as  these  remove  all  the  difficulty.  There  remains,  as 
Butler  maintains,  an  element  of  mystery  which  we  cannot 
hope  fully  to  comprehend.  But  then,  we  must  remember 
that  we  see  at  best "  through  a  glass  darkly,"  and  are  deal- 
ing with  issues  part  of  which  lie  entirely  beyond  our  ken. 
In  dealing  with  difficulties  in  such  matters  the  plea  of 
ignorance  will  largely  avail. 

V. 

Two  of  the  arguments  which  Tindal  had  most  pressed 
against  the  truth  of  Christianity  had  been  its  want  of 
universality  and  the  imperfection  of  the  evidence 
that  could  be  advanced  in  its  support,  the  supposed 
deficiency  in  the  proof  of  it.  The  knowledge,  he  urged, 
said  to  have  been  imparted  by  the  Christian  revelation 
has  extended  to  so  small  a  part  of  the  human  race 
that,  if  we  accept  it  as  a  real  revelation,  we  must 
suppose  that  God  has  favourites  among  the  races  of 
mankind ;  at  least,  that  He  gives  to  some  opportunities 
which  He  denies  to  others.    Yet  is  such  a  view  com- 

'  Roiuaus  viii.  1,  15. 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PART  II 


203 


patible  with  the  justice  of  God  ?  The  great  place  which 
the  vast  multitudes  of  Chinese,  then  first  beginning  to 
be  fully  known  to  Western  Europe,  were  at  that  time 
filling  in  the  public  eye,  imparted  additional  emphasis 
to  this  argument ;  so  that,  as  Butler  says,^  "  the  objec- 
tion against  revelation  from  its  not  being  universal  is 
often  insisted  on  as  of  great  weight." 

Yet  this  objection  is  surely  sufficiently  disposed  of  by 
the  following  argument  which  Butler  advances.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  and  experience  we  find  that  all  creatures 
are  by  no  means  placed  in  an  equally  favourable  condi- 
tion for  obtaining  temporal  happiness.  The  gifts  which 
God  bestows  He  gives  in  different  degrees  and  amounts 
to  different  species ;  and  even  among  creatures  of  the 
same  species  He  grants  His  favours  with  the  most  pro- 
miscuous variety.  All  men  are  not  equally  endowed 
with  health  or  strength,  with  prudence  or  wealth.  We 
may  further  observe,  both  that  among  those  to  whom 
a  revelation  has  been  given,  it  has  been  given  with 
different  degrees  of  evidence  and  clearness  at  different 
times,  and  that  its  claims  on  mankind  are  even  now 
presented  in  the  case  of  different  peoples  with  varying 
degrees  of  cogency  and  force ;  yet  all  these  phenomena 
have  their  parallel  in  God's  dealings  with  men  in  other 
matters  beside  revelation.  The  light  of  reason  itself  is 
not  granted,  any  more  than  that  of  revelation,  to  all 
men  equally ;  nor  are  all  men  equally  capable  of  using 
the  reason  they  do  possess  to  the  best  advantage.  The 
truths  of  natural  knowledge,  again,  like  those  of  revela- 
tion, have  become  the  common  heritage  of  mankind 
through  the  agency  of  gifted  individuals,  or  gifted 
races;  very  small  is  the  number  of  those  who  have 
been  able  to  discover  them,  or  reason  them  out,  for 
themselves.  Some  nations,  we  may  also  observe, 
exhibit  more  prudence  in  the  conduct  of  their  affairs 

>  Analogy,  ii.  vi,  §  1. 


204    BISHOP  BUTLEE:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


than  do  others;  some  are  placed  in  more  difficult 
and  trying  circumstances,  others  in  less.  What  God's 
object  is  in  constituting  all  this  variety  and  diversity 
we  can  only  guess,  and  are  necessarily  much  in  the 
dark  about  it.  But  the  universal  prevalence  through- 
out nature  of  endless  variety  proves  at  least  that 
diversity  cannot  be  at  variance  with  His  general  pur- 
poses or  with  His  moral  government  of  the  imiverse. 
What  gives  an  appearance  of  injustice  to  such  an 
arrangement  is  that  we  are  apt  to  forget  that  God  will 
not  judge  all  men  alike ;  that  no  more  will  be  required 
of  any  one  than  his  opportunities  warrant ;  and  that  a 
man  will  be  accepted  according  to  what  he  has,  not 
according  to  what  he  has  not.^ 

The  difficulty  which  was  supposed  to  arise  from  the 
scantiness  and  insufficiency  of  the  proof  of  revelation 
Butler  meets  in  another  way.  Had  God  really  given  a 
revelation,  Tindal  contended.  He  would  have  given  un- 
mistakable proof  of  its  truth  and  credibility.  But 
how,  asks  Butler,  are  we  justified  in  assuming  this? 
In  all  practical  matters  we  have  to  conduct  our 
temporal  affairs  on  the  strength  of  evidence  that  is,  at 
the  most,  probable.  Probability,  as  he  puts  it  else- 
where, is  the  guide  of  Ufe.  There  can  be  nothing 
anomalous,  then,  if  the  evidence  by  which  we  have  to 
guide  ourselves  in  matters  of  rehgion,  which  are  prac- 
tical also,  be  only  probable.^  Besides  this,  the  doubt- 
fulness of  the  evidence  for  religion  may  be,  for  some 
men  who  are  naturally  disposed  to  virtue,  the  chief 
part  of  their  probation  ;  for  all  it  constitutes  a  part  of 
their  moral  discipline.  "  It  is  a  moral  duty,  on  a  matter 
of  great  importance  like  rehgion,  to  give  due  weight 
and  attention  to  the  evidence  which  is  advanced  in  its 
support ;  and,  where  the  evidence  falls  short  of  being 
demonstrative,  to  give  such  evidence  its  due  and  proper 
'  2  Cor.  viii.  12.  =  Analoyy,  li.  vi.  §  2. 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PAKT  II  205 


value  tests  men  more,  aud  is  more  of  a  probation  for 
them,  than  would  be  the  case  were  the  evidence  over- 
whelming." ^  To  be  doubtful,  again,  about  any  particular 
matter  is  very  different  from  knowing  that  it  is  not 
true,  and  involves  very  difierent  obligations.  If  the 
thing  may  be  true,  i.e.  if  there  are  some  reasons  for 
thinking  it  is  true,  then,  if  the  matter  is  one  of  im- 
portance, we  are  bound  to  give  full  weight  to  this 
consideration,  and,  where  there  are  no  clear  reasons 
dictating  an  opposite  course,  we  may  be  as  much 
bound  to  proceed  on  the  assumption  that  the  case  is  so, 
as  if  it  were  actually  proved  to  be  so.^  We  have  once 
more  carefully  to  consider  whether  the  apparent  doubt- 
fulness of  the  evidence  may  not  be  more  due  to  our 
unwillingness  to  accept  the  conclusion  than  to  inherent 
defects  in  the  evidence  itself.  It  is  certain  we  are 
always  apt  to  undervalue  the  evidence  for  a  conclusion 
we  do  not  wish  to  believe;  and  since,  in  a  way,  the 
truths  of  religion  must  always  be  unpalatable  to  us, 
involving,  as  they  do,  if  accepted,  certain  strict  and  far- 
reaching  obUgations,  we  have  consequently  a  certain 
bias  to  believe  them  not  true,  or  at  anyrate  not  proved  ; 
and  a  need  to  be  on  the  watch  agaijist  this  bias  unduly 
influencing  our  judgment.  To  overcome  this  bias 
towards  disbeUef  involves  a  certain  effort ;  and  the 
making  this  effort  may  therefore  form  a  part,  and 
an  important  part,  of  the  discipline  of  our  lives  and 
of  our  state  of  probation.  And  yet  again,  we  must 
not  unduly  depreciate  the  measure  of  the  proof  given. 
It  has  been  found  sufficient,  when  duly  attended  to, 
to  convince  plain  and  honest  men  during  many  genera- 
tions and  in  many  different  countries. 

To  these  considerations  advanced  by  Butler  he  adds 
another  to  which  Mr.  Bagehot  has  drawn  particular 
attention  in  a  remarkable   "  Essay   on  the  '  Ignor- 

'  Analogy,  ii.  vi.  §§  10,  11.  -  Chap.  vi.  §  12. 


206    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


ance  of  Man.' "  ^  Is  it  not  necessary,  the  writer  there 
asks,  if  disinterested  virtue  is  to  be  possible,  that  the 
evidence  for  any  system  of  revealed  religion  should  be 
short  of  demonstrative  ?  Were  truths  such  as  the 
moral  superintendence  of  God,  His  reward  of  virtue, 
His  punishment  of  vice,  forced,  as  it  were,  on  our  minds 
by  overwlielming  evidence,  so  that  we  could  feel  no 
doubt  about  them,  would  not  the  inevitable  result  be 
that,  in  spite  of  ourselves,  we  should  be  rendered 
virtuous  by  nothing  else  than  the  hope  of  reward,  and 
be  deterred  from  vice  solely  by  the  fear  of  punishment  ? 
As  things  are  now,  we  believe  in  systems  of  religion,  in 
the  truths  of  Christianity  above  all,  because  they  fall  in 
with  and  are  confirmed  by  our  deepest  moral  convic- 
tions ;  vakiing  goodness  for  its  own  sake,  we  believe 
that,  as  Christianity  declares,  it  will  be  rewarded 
because  it  deserves  to  be  so  ;  detesting  vice  as  vice,  we 
equally  beUeve  that  it  will  be  punished,  because  that  is 
its  proper  and  appropriate  fate.  The  deeper  our  moral 
convictions,  the  clearer  our  belief  in  the  revealed 
system  which  falls  in  with  those  convictions  is  likely 
to  be.  But  were  an  intellectual  belief  in  our  religious 
system  forced  upon  us  by  an  overwhelming  array  of 
external  proof,  appealing  primarily  to  our  reason  and 
not  to  our  moral  nature,  a  disinterested  love  of  good- 
ness wovUd  cease  to  be  possible,  and  so  would  a 
disinterested  hatred  of  sin.  As  it  is,  the  evidence  is 
sufficient  if  we  are  disposed  to  trust  it,  but  not  more 
than  sufficient.  In  this  way  our  readiness  to  yield 
assent  to  evidence  which  is  not  overwhelming,  and  to 
hold  to  our  assent  where  once  we  have  yielded  it, 
even  under  the  pressure  of  doubt  and  of  apparent 
intellectual  difficulty,  may  well  form,  as  Butler  con- 
tends, a  very  real  and  important  part  of  our  moral 
probation. 

'  Literary  Studies,  vol.  iii..  Essay  V. 


THE  "ANALOGY^  PART  II  207 


YI. 

Chapter  vii.,  which  deals  with  the  particular  evidence 
for  Christianity,  is,  perhaps,  the  only  chapter  of  the 
Analogy  of  which  it  coiild  fairly  be  said  that  it  is  anti- 
quated and  out  of  date.  That  in  some  sense  it  is  so  is 
allowed  by  Ish.  Gladstone  himself.  In  his  opening  note 
upon  it  he  observes :  ^  "  After  the  discussions  of  the  last 
century  and  a  half  Butler  would,  perhaps,  have  some- 
what altered  what  he  has  written  respecting  the  twin 
offices  of  miracle  and  prophecy  as  evidences  of  revealed 
religion."  Yet  it  is  more  in  the  form  than  in  the 
substance  of  what  he  says  that  Butler  would  probably 
see  cause  to  make  alterations,  and  in  the  relative  import- 
ance to  be  attached  to  the  different  topics  on  which  he 
touches.  What  he  regarded  as  primary  we  are  inclined 
to  consider  secondary ;  while  to  some  of  the  arguments 
which  he  looks  upon  as  secondary  and  subordinate, 
we  should  assign  now  a  leading  place.  Stdl,  it  is  to  be 
observed  that  the  germs  of  almost  all  that  has  been 
subsequently  advanced  are  to  be  found  in  his  treatment 
of  the  subject :  and  later  thinkers  have  only  developed 
or  brought  into  prominence  Mats  which  he  suggested. 

1.  Butler  finds  the  two  "  direct  and  fvmdamental 
proofs  of  Christianity"  to  be  miracles  and  the  fulfil- 
ment, or,  as  he  calls  it  the  completion,  of  prophecy.  I 
suppose  that,  while  we  should  all  still  regard  these  two 
as  very  important  elements  in  the  complex  proof,  we 
should  yet  be  inclined  to  rank  as  co-ordinate  with  them 
the  proof  derived  from  what  has  been  called  "  the  moral 
miracle  of  our  Lord's  imique  and  sinless  personality," 
as  well  as  the  evidence  afforded  by  the  existence  of  the 
Christian  Church  and  the  influence  it  has  exercised 
alike  on  indi\-iduals  and  on  society  at  large.  Both  these 
points  are  dwelt  upon  by  Butler  as  factors  entering 

Anaiogxj,  ll.  viL  §  2,  note  1. 


208    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


into  the  complex  proof,  but  we  should  be  disposed  to 
give  them  greater  prominence  than  that  which  he 
assigns  to  them. 

2.  Agreeing  in  this  with  most  of  his  contemporaries, 
Butler  ascribes  to  our  Lord's  miracles  a  share  in  awaken- 
ing faith  in  the  earliest  believers,  which  can  scarcely  be 
justified  historically.  Miracles  were  never,  or  scarcely 
ever,  performed  by  our  Lord  for  the  purpose  of  pro- 
ducing belief, — rather,  the  part  which  they  play  is  to 
confirm  and  justify  a  faith  that  is  already  existent. 
Faith  is  described  more  frequently  as  the  condition 
than  as  the  result,  of  the  miracle.  "  He  could  there  do 
no  mighty  work  .  .  .  and  He  marvelled  because  of  their 
unbelief."  ^  "0  woman,  great  is  thy  faith  :  be  it  unto 
thee  even  as  thou  wilt."  ^  Faith  throughout  the  Gospel 
history  is  aroused  in  the  first  instance  by  the  teaching 
and  the  personality  of  Christ ;  miracles  come  in  to  con- 
firm and  deepen  the  impression  that  has  been  already 
made.  And  as  it  was  in  our  Lord's  own  lifetime,  so  was 
it  also  for  the  most  part  with  regard  to  the  spread  of 
the  Gospel  by  the  Apostles.  Miracles,  except  the 
miracle  of  the  resurrection  (and  that  has  for  the 
Apostles  a  moral  and  spiritual  even  more  than  a 
directly  evidential  value),  are  scarcely  ever  put  forward 
as  the  fundamental  basis  on  which  the  faith  of  the 
converts  should  rest.  The  message  of  the  Gospel  con- 
tains in  itself — in  the  appeal  it  makes  to  the  hearts 
and  consciences  of  all  men — its  own  evidence.  In 
the  Epistles  of  St.  Paul  our  Lord's  miracles,  with  the 
exception  of  that  of  the  resurrection,  are  nowhere 
directly  referred  to.  Even  in  the  early  apologists  and 
the  sub-apostolic  fathers  surprisingly  little  stress  is 
laid  upon  them.  They  are  indeed  taken  for  granted, 
but  are  hardly  ever  put  forward  as  the  ground  on 
which  faith  should  ultimately  rest.    What  Butler  has 

1  St.  Mark  vi.  5.  -  St.  Matt.  xv.  28. 


THE  "analogy,"  part  II  209 


to  say  about  the  strength  and  the  severely  tested 
character  of  the  evidence  for  them  ;  of  the  contemporary 
witness  borne  to  them ;  of  the  publicity  which  attached 
to  them ;  of  the  unique  position  which  miracles  occupy 
in  relation  to  Judaism  and  Christianity — these  being 
the  only  two  religions  in  the  history  of  the  world  which 
have  ventured  to  base  their  claim  to  credit  on  miracles 
alleged  to  have  been  publicly  performed,  and  capable, 
therefore,  of  being  publicly  examined,^  —  all  this  is 
indeed  excellently  and  soberly  stated,  is  of  great  import- 
ance and  worthy  of  careful  consideration.  Yet  nowa- 
days we  are  inclined  to  invert  the  argument  which 
Butler  propounded ;  and  instead  of  saying  we  believe 
Jesus  to  be  the  Son  of  God,  because  He  wrought 
miracles,  and  miracles  of  such  a  kind  and  tested  in  such 
ways,  we  should  rather  put  the  case  thus.  Believing 
Christ  to  be  the  Son  of  God,  because  of  His  unique 
personality.  His  sinlessness,  the  gracious  words  that 
proceeded  out  of  His  mouth ;  because  of  the  great  part 
which  the  Church  He  founded  has  played  in  human 
history ;  because,  above  all,  of  the  redeeming  influence 
which  faith  in  Him  has  had  and  still  has  on  the  souls 
and  lives  of  all  that  believe  in  Him :  we  cannot  but 
believe  that  He  should  have  worked  miracles,  and 
miracles  of  the  kind  ascribed  to  Him  in  the  Gospel 
narrative, — mii'acles,  that  is,  of  love,  of  redemption,  of 
healing,  of  restoration  to  life.  Thus,  then,  we  now  once 
more  assign  to  miracles  the  position  which  in  the  first 
spread  of  Christianity  we  believe  them  to  have  origin- 
ally occupied.  We  accept  them  as  signs  confirmatory 
of  a  truth  which  on  other  grounds  we  have  already 
embraced ;  necessary  results,  and  so  also  necessary 
supports,  of  the  faith  that  Jesus  is  the  Son  of  God. 

3.  Nor  is  there  less  change  in  our  attitude  towards 
what  Butler  has  put  forward  as  the  other  direct  and 

'  Analogy,  ii.  vii.  §§  8-10. 

14 


210    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WEITINGS 


fundamental  proof  of  Christianity^ — the  fulfilment,  or 
"  completion,"  of  prophecy.  The  fulfilment  of  prophecy, 
in  the  precise  sense  in  which  Butler  uses  the  term, — 
the  literal  fulfilment,  at  a  particular  time,  of  definite 
texts  or  predictions, — can  no  longer  be  regarded  as  a 
primary  proof  of  Christianity  at  all.  The  change  in 
point  of  view  has  been  mainly  due  to  those  critical 
and  historical  studies  in  which  our  age  has  been  so 
prolific.  These  have  partly  had  the  effect  of  raising  a 
doubt  whether  a  good  deal  of  what  has  hitherto  been 
looked  on  as  prophecy  can  properly  be  regarded  as 
such,  in  view  of  the  altered  date  ascribed  to  many  of 
the  writings  of  the  Old  Testament ;  partly,  they  have 
shown  that  so  many  of  the  prophecies  have  reference, 
in  the  first  instance,  to  the  special  needs  and 
circumstances  of  the  time  at  which  they  were 
uttered,  that  it  is  doubtful  whether  we  are  justified  in 
attributing  to  them,  as  far  as  the  prophet's  own  inten- 
tion was  concerned,  any  other  bearing ;  and  though 
we  may  now  see  that  the  stream  of  prophecy,  viewed 
as  a  whole,  leads  up  to  a  more  and  more  enlarged 
and  spiritual  conception  of  deliverance  and  redemption, 
which  finds  its  complete  fulfilment  only  in  that  world- 
redemption,  that  "  saving  His  people  from  their  sins," 
which  the  Saviour  wrought ;  yet  from  the  prophet  him- 
self no  less  than  his  hearers  and  contemporaries  this 
truth  was  hidden,  and  his  commission  was  to  guide, 
rebuke,  counsel,  and  enlighten  those  among  whom  his 
lot  was  immediately  cast.  But  though  the  argument 
from  prophecy  has  thus  altered  in  form,  it  must  not 
be  thought  that  it  has  ceased  to  have  weight.  If 
we  can  trace,  as  we  undoubtedly  can,  throughout  all 
the  earlier  history  a  gradual  preparation  for  the 
coming  of  the  Christ,  so  that  all  the  previous  history 
points  up  to  Him,  and  finds  in  Him  its  pui'pose  and 
explanation,  just  as  subsequent  history  looks  back  to 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PART  II 


211 


Him  and  finds  in  Him  its  starting-point  and  central 
figure,  then  a  prophetic  element  in  history  can  scarcely 
be  denied.  And  if  we  find,  further,  the  history  itself 
so  planned  and  directed  as  to  be  an  ever-developing 
preparation  for  His  coming,  so  that  in  Him  were 
fulfilled  the  aspirations,  hopes,  and  yearnings  which 
had  gradually  taken  shape  in  the  writings  of  the 
prophets  and  wise  men  who  had  preceded  Him,  we 
have  an  argument  for  regarding  Christ's  appearance 
"  in  the  fulness  of  time "  as  being  part  of  a  divinely 
ordained  plan  quite  as  strong  as  that  which  can  be 
gathered  from  the  individual  fulfilment  of  particular 
predictions. 

4.  There  is  another  part  of  Butler's  argument  of 
which  time  and  discussion  have  certainly  done  nothing 
to  diminish  the  force, — his  contention,  I  mean,  as  to  the 
complex  character  of  the  proof  of  Christianity  and  the 
need  there  consequently  is  that  all  the  converging  lines 
of  it  should  be  taken  and  weighed  together.  "  The 
evidence,"  he  pertinently  observes,  "  is  of  the  kind  upon 
which  most  questions  of  difficulty,  in  common  practice, 
are  determined — evidence,  arising  from  various  coin- 
cidences, which  support  and  confirm  each  other,  and 
in  this  manner  prove  with  more  or  less  certainty  the 
point  under  consideration."  ^  What,  then,  are  the 
different  lines  of  proof  which  thus  converge  and 
have  thus  consequently  all  to  be  taken  into  account  ? 
They  are  partly  moral,  partly  intellectual.  The  moral 
grounds  are  such  as  these — the  influence  which  Christi- 
anity has  exerted  and  continues  to  exert  both  on  society 
at  large,  and  still  more  on  the  lives  of  individuals  who 
cordially  embrace  it ;  the  capacity  it  has  shown  to  meet 
and  satisfy  the  needs  and  aspirations  of  many  varying 
races,  in  many  different  stages  of  civilisation  ;  the  hold 
it  has  managed  to  establish  and  maintain  on  the  most 

'  Analogij,  ii.  vii.  §§  35-38. 


212    BISHOP  BUTLEE:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

progressive,  even  more  than  on  the  more  backward, 
races  of  mankind ;  the  permanence  of  its  influence,  in 
spite  of  opposition  and  of  the  many  and  various  attacks 
that  have  been  made  upon  it.  The  chief  intellectual 
proof,  in  addition  to  the  arguments  from  miracles  and 
prophecy  which  have  been  already  discussed,  is  to  be 
found  in  the  fact  that  while  Christianity  has  appealed 
to  and  satisfied  men  of  the  greatest  intellectual  power, 
no  other  explanation  of  the  universe,  or  account  of 
human  life,  has  been  able  long  to  maintain  its  hold  on 
the  more  reasonable  portion  of  mankind.  This  or  that 
other  system  may  have  been  popular  for  a  time,  and 
made  many  adherents ;  but  the  power  of  such  has 
speedily  waned,  and  left  Christianity  in  almost  un- 
disputed possession  of  the  field.  The  incarnation  of 
the  Son  of  God  has  been  the  rock  on  which  the  Church 
has  been  built ;  and,  so  far,  the  gates  of  Hell  have  not 
prevailed  against  it. 

VII. 

In  the  two  remaining  sections,  chapter  viii.  and  the 
Conclusion,  Butler  first  attempts  to  meet  certain  objec- 
tions which  he  considers  likely  to  be  felt  by  the  world 
at  large,  or  to  be  urged  by  his  opponents,  against  his 
whole  method  of  reasoning  from  analogy;  and  then 
proceeds  to  estimate,  as  carefully  as  may  be,  what 
general  effect  his  argument  ought  in  reason  to  have  on 
the  minds  of  his  readers. 

His  whole  method  of  argument  he  feels  himself  to 
be  too  little  convincing  and  demonstrative,  pitched  in 
too  low  a  key,  for  the  taste  and  temper  of  his  times. 
We  know,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  that  after  the  appearance 
of  the  Analogy  criticisms  of  this  kind  were  passed  upon 
it.  Butler  was  pronounced  to  be  "  somewhat  too  little 
vigorous,"  "  not  sufficiently  positive  and  persuasive." 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PART  II  213 


What  the  age  demanded  was  a  vigorous  and  demon- 
strative proof  of  the  Being  and  Attributes  of  God  and 
of  the  plain  obligations  of  morality,  such  as  Clarke  was 
supposed  lately  to  have  supplied  in  his  Boyle  Lectures ; 
less  trenchant  proofs  were  only  too  liable  to  be  neglected 
or  even  derided.  "  Eidicule,  unanswerable  ridicule,  was 
apt  to  be  applied  to  show  such  arguments  in  a  dis- 
advantageous light."  ^  It  is  against  this  prevailing 
temper  that  he  ventures  in  his  last  chapter  to  protest ; 
and  tries  in  it  to  advance  pleas  which  shall  indicate 
the  right  of  a  more  humble  and  less  self-confident  mode 
of  argument  to  be  listened  to  and  respected. 

1.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  likely,  he  says,  to  be 
contended  that  to  meet  the  objections  which  have  been 
raised  to  revealed  religion,  by  showing  that  similar 
objections  may  be  urged  against  the  assumed  truths  of 
natural  religion,  and  against  much  which  is  to  be  found 
in  the  arrangements  and  course  of  nature,  is  "  a  poor 
thing."  What  is  wanted,  it  is  urged,  is  that  the  objec- 
tions against  both  systems  should  be  cleared  up,  not 
that  we  should  meet  one  set  of  difficulties  by  starting 
another  in  a  new  quarter.^  But  this  demand  to  have 
all  difficulties  cleared  up  is  really  an  unreasonable  one. 
All  difficulties  cannot  be  cleared  up  except  by  entering 
into  the  whole  plan  or  scheme  of  God's  government ; 
and  this  we  men  are  obviously  incapable  of  doing. 
God's  plan  stretches  away  beyond  our  ken,  and  we  can 
know  but  a  part,  probably  but  a  small  part,  of  His 
whole  design.  Further,  to  point  out  that  those  who 
would  upset  revelation  on  the  ground  of  difficulties  urged 
against  it  would  have,  on  what  are  practically  the  same 
grounds,  to  abandon  belief  in  God's  moral  government 
of  the  world,  and  even  in  His  government  of  it  at  all,  is, 

'  Analogy,  ii.  viii.  §  28.    There  is  probably  a  reference  here  to 
Shaftesbury's  thesis  that  ridicule  is  the  test  of  truth. 
=  Ibid.  §  2. 


214    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


Butler  maintains,  a  perfectly  legitimate  line  of  argument, 
and  one  of  real  weight.  For  if  it  be  admitted,  and  it 
was  at  that  time  generally  admitted,  that  such  objec- 
tions are,  in  the  case  of  nature,  not  sufficient  to  over- 
throw our  belief  in  God's  authorship  and  government 
of  the  world,  a  revelation,  which  also  comes  from  God, 
would  be  likely  to  exhibit  the  same  kind  of  character- 
istics which  are  to  be  found  in  nature ;  and,  if  so,  the 
same  kind  of  difficulties  too.  But  if  these  difficulties 
are  held  not  to  be  sufficient  to  shake  our  faith  in  the 
one  case,  why  should  they  do  so  in  the  other  ? 

2.  A  second  objection,  which  he  thinks  likely  to  be 
put  forward,  is  to  this  effect :  that,  on  his  own  show- 
ing, the  evidence  for  Christianity  is  so  complex,  and 
so  obscured  by  many  difficulties,  that  the  case  for  it 
amounts  only  to  a  probable  one ;  and  it  is  exceedingly 
unlikely  that,  in  a  matter  of  such  importance,  God 
should  have  left  us  to  the  guidance  of  only  probable 
evidence.  Yet  surely,  replies  Butler,  such  an  objection 
is  sufficiently  met  if  it  be  shown,  as  he  has  shown,  that 
in  our  temporal  concerns  God  constantly  leaves  us  to  the 
guidance  of  very  similar  evidence.  For  if  this  be  so  there 
can  clearly  be  no  impossibility  that  in  matters  of  re- 
ligion God  should  act  as  He  acts  with  regard  to  our  tem- 
poral interests.  If,  again,  in  the  case  of  these  concerns, 
we  do  not  consider  the  imperfection  of  the  evidence,  on 
the  strength  of  which  we  have  to  act,  any  sufficient 
reason  either  for  abandoning  the  pursuit  of  our  earthly 
happiness,  or  for  neglecting  to  consider  the  best  means 
by  which  that  happiness  may  be  secured,  why  should 
we  be  any  more  disposed  to  do  this  where  our  eternal 
happiness  is  in  question  ?  Is  not  this  here,  too,  the 
reasonable  course  to  adopt — accepting  the  evidence  we 
have  for  what  it  is  worth,  to  consider  what  our  future 
happiness  is  likely  to  consist  in,  and  then  to  take  the 
best  means  which  are  within  our  power,  and  which  our 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PART  II  215 


knowledge  reveals  to  us,  to  secure  that  happiness  for 
ourselves  ?  ^ 

3.  If,  thirdly,  it  is  objected  that  his  argument  fails, 
after  all,  "  to  justify  the  ways  of  God  to  man,"  Butler's 
answer  is  that  to  do  this  is  not  his  primary  object  and 
concern.  His  object  rather  is  to  point  out  to  men  their 
duty  to  God  and  to  themselves,  to  make  it  clear  how 
they  ought  in  reason  to  behave.  Yet  his  argument 
goes  at  least  thus  far  towards  justifying  God's  ways, 
that  it  shows  that,  in  the  absence  of  more  extended 
knowledge,  we  can  never  have  the  right  to  pronounce 
the  ways  of  God  unjust ;  since  what  appears  to  us 
unjust  from  our  present  narrow  point  of  view  may  well 
from  a  more  extended  outlook  be  seen  to  be  necessary, 
and  right,  and  just.  Besides,  if  the  doctrines  of  reve- 
lation cannot  be  fully  justified,  the  same  may  be  said 
of  God's  ways  in  nature ;  and  the  contents  of  revelation 
can  be  made  credible  or  even  probable,  as  matters  of 
fact,  even  though,  with  our  limited  range  of  knowledge, 
we  may  not  be  able  fully  to  explain  or  justify  them.^ 

4.  Lastly  if  the  incompleteness  of  the  proof  be 
insisted  upon,  and  used  as  a  positive  argument  (as  it 
never  ought  to  be)  against  the  truth  of  revelation,  it 
will  be  necessary  to  insist,  as  has  been  already  done,^ 
that  this  very  incompleteness  in  the  proof  may  be  a 
part,  or  form  a  side,  of  our  probation,  strengthening  our 
moral  nature  by  leading  us  to  trust  our  higher  and 
deeper  instincts  even  in  cases  where  reason  cannot  see 
its  way  perfectly  clearly.  Something  of  the  same  kind 
has  often  to  be  done  even  in  worldly  affairs  by  those  who 
would  lead  their  lives  worthily  and  nobly ;  even  here 
we  have  often  to  trust  our  best  instincts,  and  act  upon 
them  in  the  absence  of  complete  and  definite  proof.* 

Nor  must  it  be  forgotten,  Butler  urges,  that  through- 

1  Analogy,  ll.  viii.  §  8.  -  Ibid.  §§  10,  11. 

3  Ibid.  II.  vi.  §  17.  *  Ibid.  li.  viii.  §  21. 


216    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


out  his  book  he  has  been  conducting  his  argument  not 
on  his  own  premises,  but  on  those  of  his  opponents.  A 
stronger  case  might,  he  believes,  have  been  made  out, 
had  he  felt  justified  in  assuming  two  principles,  respect- 
ing which  he  feels  no  doubt  himself,  but  which,  because 
they  are  disputed,  he  thinks  it  better  not  to  take  for 
granted.  These  principles  are  human  free-will,  and 
that  of  the  moral  fitness  and  imfitness  of  actions  {i.e. 
their  inherent  Tightness  or  wrongness)  prior  to  all  will 
whatsoever.  After  bidding  his  readers  bear  this  dis- 
advantage in  mind,  he  thus  sums  up  his  whole  position : 
"  Hence,  therefore,  may  be  observed  distinctly  what  is 
the  force  of  this  treatise.  It  will  be,  to  such  as  are 
convinced  of  religion  upon  the  proof  arising  out  of  the 
two  last-mentioned  principles,  an  additional  proof  and 
a  confirmation  of  it ;  to  such  as  do  not  admit  these 
principles,  an  original  proof  of  it,  and  a  confirmation 
of  that  proof.  Those  who  believe  will  here  find  the 
scheme  of  Christianity  cleared  of  objections,  and  the 
evidence  of  it  in  a  peculiar  manner  strengthened ;  those 
who  do  not  beUeve  will  at  least  be  shown  the  absui'dity 
of  all  attempts  to  prove  Christianity  false,  the  plain  un- 
doubted credibility  of  it ;  and  I  hope  a  good  deal  more."^ 
In  the  Conclusion  he  passes  once  more  in  re%aew  the 
main  steps  in  the  argument  which  has  now  been 
brought  to  a  close.  After  expressing  his  surprise  that 
the  claims  of  religion  should  be  as  often  neglected  as 
they  are,  he  goes  on  to  point  out  that  the  supposed 
difficulties  in  the  way  of  accepting  it  have  aU  been  met 
in  a  manner  which  at  least  his  opponents  must  find  it 
very  difficult  to  dispute ;  that,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
evidence  in  its  favour,  though  not  demonstrative,  is  as 
complete  as  that  which  we  have  constantly  to  act  upon 
in  the  ordinary  concerns  of  everyday  life.  He  thus  sums 
up  the  result,  to  which  he  holds  that  even  his  adver- 

^  Analogy,  ll.  viii.  §  27. 


THE  "ANALOGY,"  PART  II  217 


saries  ought  to  be  brought.  "  With  regard  to  Chris- 
tianity, it  will  be  observed  that  there  is  a  middle 
between  the  full  satisfaction  of  the  truth  of  it  and  a 
satisfaction  of  the  contrary.  The  middle  state  of  mind 
between  these  two  consists  in  a  serious  apprehension 
that  it  may  be  true,  joined  with  doubt  whether  it  be 
so.  And  this,  upon  the  best  judgment  I  am  able  to 
make,  is,"  he  proceeds,  "  as  far  towards  speculative  in- 
fidelity as  any  sceptic  can  at  all  be  supposed  to  go  who 
has  had  true  Christianity,  with  the  proper  evidence  for 
it,  laid  before  him,  and  has  in  any  tolerable  measure 
considered  them.  For  I  would  not  be  mistaken  to 
comprehend  all  who  have  ever  heard  of  it ;  because  it 
seems  evident  that  in  many  countries,  called  Christian, 
neither  Christianity,  nor  its  evidence,  are  fairly  laid 
before  men.  And  in  places  where  both  are,  there 
appear  to  be  some  who  have  very  little  attended  to 
either,  and  who  reject  Christianity  with  a  scorn  pro- 
portionate to  their  inattention ;  and  yet  are  by  no  means 
without  understanding  in  other  matters.  Now  it  has 
been  shown  that  a  serious  apprehension  that  Chris- 
tianity may  be  true,  lays  persons  under  the  strictest 
obligations  of  a  serious  regard  to  it  throughout  the 
whole  of  their  life ;  a  regard  not  the  same  exactly,  but 
in  many  respects  nearly  the  same,  with  what  a  full 
conviction  of  its  truth  would  lay  them  under. 

"  Lastly,  it  will  appear  that  blasphemy  and  profaneness 
— I  mean  with  regard  to  Christianity — are  absolutely 
without  excuse.  For  there  is  no  temptation  to  it  but 
from  the  wantonness  of  vanity  or  mirth ;  and  these 
considering  the  infinite  importance  of  the  subject,  are 
no  such  temptations  as  to  afford  any  excuse  for  it."  ^ 

The  passage  is  instructive  not  only  as  being  a  good 
illustration  of  the  extreme  moderation  with  which 
Butler  states  his  case,  and  of  the  care  he  takes  to  avoid 

1  Analogy,  il.  ix.  §§  20,  21. 


218    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


even  the  least  appearance  of  exaggeration,  but  also  for 
the  light  it  throws  on  the  atmosphere  of  indifference 
and  even  profaneness  in  which  he  felt  himself  to  live. 
He  seemed  to  himself  —  nor  was  the  impression 
wholly  a  false  one — to  be  "a  voice  crying  in  the 
wilderness,"  a  voice  which  was  drowned  by  opposition, 
or  what  was  almost  worse,  smothered  by  indifference. 
The  higher  principles,  to  which  he  would  fain  have 
made  appeal,  seemed  to  him  so  certain  to  fall  on  deaf 
ears  that,  abandoning  them,  he  is  sometimes  content  to 
argue  with  his  opponents  on  those  lower  grounds  of 
enlightened  selfishness  which  were  then  regarded  as  the 
only  true  and  reasonable  principles  of  action.  And  his 
argument,  in  our  eyes,  suffers  sometimes  in  consequence. 
But  even  at  this  lower  level  there  is  a  seriousness  and 
sobriety  in  his  reasonings  which  saves  them  always  from 
contempt,  and  convinces  us  that  he  himself  Hved  habitu- 
ally amid  nobler  thoughts,  and  that  his  own  actions 
were  determined  by  no  mere  questions  of  nicely  calcul- 
ated less  and  more. 


CHAPTEK  VII 


THE  TWO  DISSERTATIONS  OF  PERSONAL  IDENTITY 
AND  OF  THE  NATURE  OF  VIRTUE 

These  two  dissertations,  Butler  tells  us  in  the  Adver- 
tisement, he  had  in  the  original  draft  of  the  Analogy 
incorporated  in  that  treatise,  designing  the  first  to 
stand  a  part  of  chapter  i.,  which  treats  of  a  future  life ; 
while  the  other  was  to  make  a  part  of  chapter  iii.,  on 
the  "  Moral  Government  of  God."  As,  however,  on 
second  thoughts,  these  episodes  seemed  to  him  not 
sufficiently  closely  connected  with  the  main  subject  of 
the  treatise  to  justify  their  insertion,  he  preferred  in 
the  end  to  keep  them  separate.  Since,  however,  they 
both  serve  to  illustrate  important  points  in  his  system, 
and  obviate  objections  which  may  be,  and  have  been, 
urged  against  it,  it  seems  well  to  add  a  short  chapter 
upon  them,  so  as  to  complete  our  review  of  his  whole 
philosophy. 

1.  In  the  dissertation  on  Personal  Identity  Butler 
deals  with  certain  difficulties  which  had  been  raised  as 
to  the  possibility  of  a  future  Life,  on  the  ground  of  the 
supposed  obscurity  of  the  idea  of  personal  identity 
which  was  involved  in  it.  Into  what  elements,  it  was 
asked,  can  we  analyse  our  identity,  how  can  we  define 
it  ?  To  this  Butler  replies : — An  idea  can  often  be 
understood,  and  understood  perfectly  well,  of  which  we 
are  yet  able  to  give  no  very  precise  definition.  This  is 
the  case,  for  instance,  with  such  ultimate  ideas  as  those 

219 


220    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


of  likeness  and  equality.  We  know  perfectly  well 
what  we  mean  when  we  say  that  two  geometrical 
figures  are  like  one  another  or  similar,  and  that  twice 
two  are  equal  to  four;  and  yet  we  might  easHy  be 
puzzled  to  say  what  constitutes  likeness  or  how  we  are 
to  define  equality.  In  the  same  way,  we  know  per- 
fectly weU  what  we  mean  when  we  speak  of  ourselves 
as  being  the  same  persons  that  we  were  five  or  ten 
years  ago,  and  as  likely  to  continue  to  be  the  same 
persons  to-morrow  that  we  are  to-day,  and  yet  might 
have  some  difficulty  in  giving  such  an  account  of  what 
constitutes  our  own  identity  as  should  be  free  from  all 
ambiguity  and  difficulty.  And  if,  undaunted  by  these 
difficulties  of  abstract  speculation,  we  feel  it  reasonable 
to  make  provision  for  ourselves  a  week,  a  month,  or  a 
year  hence,  on  the  supposition  that  we  shall  be  still 
then  the  same  selves  that  we  are  now,  and  consequently 
necessarily  objects  of  interest  to  our  present  selves,  it 
cannot  be  unreasonable  that  we  should  make  a  simUar 
assumption,  and  adopt  a  similar  course,  with  respect  to 
ourselves  in  some  future  state  of  existence.  It  is  per- 
fectly easy  to  beUeve,  and  the  belief  is  perfectly 
intelligible,  that  we  shall  be  still  the  same  persons 
after  death  that  we  are  at  present ;  and  if  so,  it  is  as 
much  a  part  of  common  sense  to  attempt,  as  far  as  we 
can,  to  provide  for  our  future  happiness  in  another  hfe, 
as  to  try  to  secure  our  future  happiness  in  this  present 
life.  Eeasou  recommends  such  a  course,  and  it  approves 
itself  to  the  ordinary  apprehension  of  common  men. 

AU  that  is  to  be  put  against  thus  acting  are  certain 
fine-spun  objections  which,  identifying  personal  identity 
with  consciousness,  ask  how  different  acts  of  con- 
sciousness can  yet  constitute  the  same  consciousness. 
This  was  a  position  partly  taken  up  by  Locke  (who, 
however,  defines  personal  identity  as  the  sameness  of  a 
rational  being, — a  definition  harmless  because  tauto- 


PERSONAL  IDENTITY,  NATURE  OF  VIRTUE  221 


logical),  but  was  pushed  to  more  absurd  consequences 
by  some  of  his  followers.  "  Their  contention  amounts," 
says  Butler,  "  when  traced  and  examined  to  the  bottom, 
to  this, — that  personality  is  not  a  permanent,  but  a 
transient  thing;  that  it  lives  and  dies,  begins  and 
ends  continually ;  that  no  man  can  any  more  remain 
one  and  the  same  person  two  moments  together  than 
two  successive  moments  can  be  one  and  the  same 
moment ;  that  our  substance  is  indeed  continually 
changing :  but  whether  this  be  so  or  not  is,  as  it  seems, 
nothing  to  the  purpose,  since  it  is  not  substance  but 
consciousness  alone  that  constitutes  personality ;  which 
consciousness,  being  successive,  cannot  be  the  same  in 
any  two  moments,  nor  consequently  the  personality 
constituted  by  it."  ^ 

Such  a  contention,  he  answers,  seems,  in  the  first 
place,  to  render  any  care  for  our  own  immediate  future 
ridiculous ;  for  why,  if  I  am  not  really  the  same 
person  a  day,  an  hour,  or  even  a  minute  hence,  should 
I  concern  myself  with  the  interests  of  that  virtually 
different  person  who  by  that  time  I  shall  have  ex 
hypothesi  become  ?  Secondly,  the  imagination  that  we 
are  not  the  same  person,  because  our  consciousness  from 
moment  to  moment  is  not  the  same  consciousness,  is 
opposed  to  the  most  certain  of  all  our  convictions,  namely, 
this,  that,  in  spite  of  changes  within  and  without,  we 
remain  nevertheless  the  same  persons  throughout  our 
conscious  lives.  Our  past  acts,  if  we  remember  them,  and 
so  far  as  we  remember  them,  we  recognise  as  our  own  acts, 
done  by  us  ourselves ;  and  no  amount  of  reasoning  will 
really  argue  us  out  of  this  belief.  And  this  underlying 
selfhood  remains  an  undeniable  fact,  whether  we  believe 
the  self  to  be  a  substance  or  a  property  of  a  substance ; 
and  it  does  not  much  matter  which  we  take  it  to  be. 
But  if  the  self  can  remain  the  same  self  through  all  the 

^  Dissertation,  i.  §  6. 


222    BISHOP  BUTLEE:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


changes  of  our  conscious  life,  there  is,  as  we  have  seen, 
no  reason  to  suppose  that  it  will  not  remain  the 
same  through  the  great  change  which  takes  place  at 
death.^ 

There  can  be  but  little  doubt  that  Butler  has  here 
the  best  of  the  argument  as  against  his  opponents. 
From  the  practical  side  he  has  shown  conclusively  that 
life  becomes  a  meaningless  conglomerate  of  unconnected 
moments,  were  it  not  strung  together  by  a  permanent 
indivisible  selfhood  which  lies  at  the  base  of,  and  is 
presupposed  in,  all  our  consciousness.  What  Butler 
showed  from  the  side  of  practice,  Hume  demonstrated 
indirectly,  but  even  more  conclusively,  from  the  point 
of  view  of  the  theory  of  knowledge.  The  only  con- 
sistent attitude,  unless  we  assume  a  permanent  self 
underlying  all  our  impressions  and  experiences,  in  and 
through  the  help  of  which  all  our  knowledge  is  gradu- 
ally acquired  and  built  up,  is,  Hume  is  driven  to  confess, 
a  hopeless  scepticism — a  denial,  that  is,  of  the  reality  or 
possibility  of  that  knowledge  whose  existence  he  set 
out  to  explain.  But  such  an  attitude  of  scepticism, 
he  admits,  he  is  himself  forced  to  abandon  directly  he 
gets  outside  of  his  study  door. 

In  the  Dissertation  on  tJie  Nature  of  Virtue  Butler 
returns  to  a  point  on  which  he  had  already  touched  in 
the  Sermons — the  nature,  originality,  and  authority  of 
conscience;  but  approaches  the  matter  from  a  some- 
what different  point  of  view  to  that  from  which  he 
had  hitherto  considered  it.  In  the  Sermons  his  object 
had  chiefly  been  to  estabhsh  the  supremacy  and  authori- 
tativeness  of  conscience,  its  right  to  be  heard,  and  its 
paramoimt  claim  to  be  obeyed.  Here  it  is  the  origin- 
ality and  independence  of  conscience  or  the  moral  sense 
that  he  mainly  insists  upon ;  and  the  place  which  it 
holds  as  an  ultimate,  underivable,  undeniable  part  of  our 

»  Analogy,  l.  i.  §§  3-6. 


PERSONAL  IDENTITY,  NATURE  OF  VIRTUE  223 


nature.  "  That  we  have  such  a  moral  approving  and 
disapproving  faculty  is  certain,"  he  says,  "  from  our 
experiencing  it  in  ourselves  and  recognising  it  in  each 
other."  1  Its  existence  is  proved  by  the  terms  expressive 
of  a  distinction  between  right  and  wrong,  good  and  evil, 
which  every  language  contains ;  by  the  judgments  we 
pass  on  one  another,  and  even  on  imaginary  characters ; 
by  the  moral  systems  which  philosophers  have  built  up, 
which  all  presuppose  such  a  distinction;  by  the  ap- 
proval and  disapproval  we  feel  for  our  own  acts  and 
characters.  "  Nor  is  it  at  all  doubtful,  in  the  general, 
what  course  of  action  this  faculty,  or  practical  discerning 
power  within  us,  approves,  and  what  it  disapproves.  For 
much  as  it  has  been  disputed  wherein  virtue  consists,  or 
whatever  ground  for  doubt  there  may  be  about  par- 
ticulars, yet  in  general  there  is  in  reality  an  universally 
acknowledged  standard  of  it.  It  is  that  which  all  ages 
and  all  countries  have  made  profession  of  in  public  ;  it  is 
that  which  every  man  you  meet  puts  on  the  show  of ;  it 
is  that  which  the  primary  and  fundamental  laws  of  all 
civil  constitutions  over  the  face  of  the  earth  make  it 
their  endeavour  to  enforce  the  practice  of  on  mankind, 
namely,  justice,  veracity,  and  regard  to  common  good."  ^ 
The  object  which  this  faculty  apprehends,  on  which  it 
passes  judgment,  are  actions  (including  their  motives 
and  intentions)  and  characters.  Whether  the  act  is 
followed  by  the  intended  consequences  or  not  does  not 
make  much  difference  to  our  moral  estimate  of  it.  It 
is  the  act  itself,  apart  from  its  consequences,  that  we 
judge ;  and  in  the  same  way  we  judge  of  characters, 
apart  largely  from  all  consideration  of  the  good  and  evil 
which  persons  of  such  characters  have  it  actually  in 
their  power  to  do.  But  secondly,  not  only  does  this 
faculty  apprehend  actions  and  characters  as  good  or 
bad,  virtuous  or  vicious,  it  also  recognises  the  one  as  of 

'  Dissertation,  ii.  §  1.  ^  Ibid.  §  3. 


224    BISHOP  BUTLER  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


good  desert,  i.e.  deserving  reward ;  the  other  as  of  ill 
desert,  i.e.  meriting  punishment.  The  idea  of  desert 
is,  indeed,  less  distinct  than  that  of  virtue  and  vice,  the 
reason  being  probably  that  it  is  not  easy  to  judge  what 
has  been  the  amount  of  effort  which  the  good  deed 
involves,  by  which  the  desert  is  mainly  measured ;  or 
again,  how  far  the  prevalence  of  temptation  may  have 
tended  to  diminish  the  ill  desert  of  the  offender.  Still, 
that  rewards  naturally  attach  to  good  deeds  and 
characters,  punishment  to  evil,  seems  a  primitive  and 
undeniable  pronouncement  of  our  moral  judgment. 
Further,  the  sum  of  good  and  ill  desert  is  relative  to, 
and  measured  by,  our  estimate  of  the  nature  and 
capacities  of  the  agent.  We  do  not  expect  the  same 
measure  of  attainment  in  all  men.  In  the  next  place, 
prudence  seems  a  kind  of  virtue,  and  is  approved  by 
our  moral  sense,  just  as  imprudence  meets  with  some 
reprobation,  and  if  it  reaches  a  high  point,  with  great. 
It  is  absurd,  therefore,  to  say  that  religion,  which  bids 
us  exercise  prudence  with  regard  to  a  future  which  is 
certainly  probable,  amounts  to  selfishness,  and  is  con- 
sequently blameworthy.  It  is  but  prudence  carried  into 
a  different  and,  we  may  say,  higher  sphere.  Finally, 
he  insists  that  while  virtue  is  closely  associated  with 
benevolence,  —  benevolence  being  a  most  important 
part  of  it, — it  is  not  identical  with  it.^  There  are 
acts  and  characters  which  we  recognise  as  virtuous, 
quite  apart  from  any  tendency  we  can  trace  in 
them  to  promote  directly  the  happiness  of  others ; 
while  vicious  acts  do  not  from  a  moral  point  of  view 
cease  to  be  vicious,  even  though  it  could  be  shown 
that  they  produced  directly  more  happiness  than 
misery.  Besides,  even  supposing  it  could  be  shown 
that  all  virtuous  acts  tended  to  the  production  of 

1  This  was  the  doctrine  of  Shaftesbury,  and  .still  more  strongly  of 
Hutcheaon. 


PERSONAL  IDENTITY,  NATURE  OF  VIRTUE  225 


happiness,  we  should  still  need  moral  principles  to 
guide  us  in  the  distribution  of  the  happiness  we  sought 
to  produce ;  and  we  seem  so  constituted  as  to  dis- 
approve of  falsehood,  unprovoked  violence,  and  injus- 
tice, abstracted  from  all  consideration  of  the  overbalance 
of  evil  they  may  appear  likely  to  occasion.^  But  if  the 
moral  sense  or  conscience  be  thus  original  and  inde- 
pendent, "  if  human  creatures  are  endowed  with  such  a 
moral  nature  as  has  been  here  explained,  and  with  a 
moral  faculty,  the  natural  object  of  which  is  actions ; 
moral  government  must  consist  in  rendering  them 
happy  and  unhappy,  in  rewarding  and  punishing  them,  as 
they  follow,  neglect,  or  depart  from  the  moral  rule  of 
action  interwoven  in  their  nature,  or  suggested  and 
enforced  by  this  moral  faculty ;  in  rewarding  and  pun- 
ishing them  on  account  of  their  so  doing."  - 

In  thus  returning  to  the  question  of  the  independ- 
ence and  originality  of  the  moral  faculty,  and  the 
consequent  validity  of  its  judgments,  Butler  was  en- 
forcing and  vindicating  what  he  rightly  felt  to  be  the 
very  centre  and  pivot  of  his  whole  system.  For  if,  as 
many  writers  from  Hobbes  to  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen 
have  maintained,  conscience  represents  nothing  more, 
and  we  will  add  nothing  higher,  than  an  instinct,  gradu- 
ally evolved  by  the  accumulating  experience,  whether 
of  the  individual  or  (as  is  held  by  the  later  and  more 
advanced  school  of  psychologists)  of  the  tribe  and 
race,  as  to  what  is  conducive  to  the  happiness  or  pre- 
servation of  the  individual  himself,  or  that  of  the 
tribe  or  society  at  large,  then  it  is  impossible  to  regard 
its  verdicts  as  having  absolute  value;  nor  can  we 
speak  intelligibly  of  reward  properly  attending  or 
being  attached  to  obedience  to  it,  nor  of  punishment 

'  Dissertation,  §  13.    The  same  point  had  also  been  insisted  in 
Sermon  XII.  §  22,  note. 
-  Dissei-lation,  §  14. 
'5 


226    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


being  deservedly  the  result  of  neglect  or  disobedience  to 
its  behests.  Ill  consequences  would,  no  doubt,  follow 
inattention  or  disobedience  to  such  an  instinct,  but 
in  what  sense  would  such  ill  consequences  be  punish- 
ment ?  If  the  instinct  be  an  instinct  guiding  us  to  the 
best  means  to  secure  our  interest  or  self-preservation, 
obviously  neglect  to  observe  its  dictates  will  involve  us 
in  evil  or  unpleasant  results  ;  but  it  would  be  a  misuse 
of  terms  to  speak  of  these  as  being  in  any  real  sense 
punishments.  But  if,  on  the  other  hand,  what  con- 
science reveals  is  a  law  of  right  and  wrong,  which, 
whatever  the  consequences  may  be  of  obeying  it, 
reveals  itself  to  us  as  having  a  claim  on  our  obedience 
and  a  right  to  be  listened  to,  then  we  shall  feel  that 
we  are  justly  treated  if  evil  consequences  do  follow 
our  neglect  of  or  disobedience  to  it,  and  we  may  in 
that  case  properly  speak  of  such  consequences  as 
"  punishments,"  and  "  deserved  punishments."  It  is 
to  vindicate  and  justify  this  point  of  view,  which  is 
really  central  with  him,  that  his  treatment  of  virtue 
and  vice  in  the  Dissertation  is  mainly,  though  not  ex- 
clusively, directed. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


GENERAL  ESTIMATE  AND  SUMMARY 

It  remains  in  this  concluding  chapter  to  attempt  to 
estimate  what  have  been  the  most  vahiable  contri- 
butions which  by  his  writings  Butler  has  made  to 
EngUsh  thought ;  to  ascertain  the  extent  and  nature  of 
the  influence  he  exerted  over  his  contemporaries  and 
successors ;  and  lastly,  to  indicate  what  his  views 
were  on  certain  points  which  have  not  at  present  come 
under  our  review. 

I.  First,  then,  if  we  ask  ourselves  what  are  the 
lessons  of  most  value  which  Butler  taught  his  own 
and  succeeding  generations,  probably  various  answers 
would  be  given  to  the  question ;  certainly,  various 
answers  have  been  given  ;  I  can  but  indicate  what 
points  in  his  writings  seem  to  me  of  most  value. 

1.  I  am  inclined  to  give  the  first  place,  beyond  ques- 
tion, to  his  vindication  of  the  originality,  independ- 
ence, and  authority  of  conscience.  This  was  the 
doctrine  which  he  himself  placed  in  the  forefront  of 
his  Sermons,  and  to  which  he  returned  in  his  latest 
writing,  the  Dissertation  on  Virtue.  This  truth  was  in- 
deed the  bedrock  on  which  his  whole  system,  whether  in 
the  Sermons  or  in  the  Analogy,  reposes.  It  was  the 
ultimate  belief  against  which  the  highest  waves  of 
scepticism  beat  in  vain.  And  he  managed  not  only 
himself  to  hold  unfalteringly  this  inexpugnable  behef  in, 
and  reverence  for,  conscience,  but  to  a  great  extent  to 


228    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


bring  it  home  to  and  impress  it  on  the  generation  to 
which  he  belonged,  and  even  to  render  it  a  perpetual 
heritage  of  the  EngUsh  race.  He  did  not,  of  course, 
invent  conscience, — he  found  it,  or  rather,  refound  it ; 
but  the  clear  assertion  of  its  authority  has  become 
the  one  truth  beyond  all  others  with  which  in  the 
minds  of  most  educated  Englishmen  his  name  is  in- 
dissolubly  connected.  If  to  Kant  Germany  owes  its 
just  recognition  of  the  "  categorical  imperative"  of  duty, 
not  less  surely  do  Englishmen  owe  to  Butler  their 
conscious  belief  in,  and  reverence  for,  conscience ;  and 
this  belief,  enforced  by  the  great  weight  of  his  authority, 
has  been,  among  many  national  failings  and  the  growing 
influence  of  a  civilisation  too  entirely  material,  the  very 
salt  of  the  national  life  and  character.  And  this  feat 
of  awakening  men's  minds  to  the  significance  and 
supremacy  of  conscience  was  all  the  more  remarkable 
when  we  consider  that  Butler  must  often  have  seemed 
to  himself  and  appeared  to  his  contemporaries  to  be 
speaking  to  deaf  ears.  The  men  of  his  day  pro- 
fessed to  be  guided  by  quite  other  influences,  and 
prided  themselves  on  being  so  guided.  To  self-interest, 
and  self-interest  alone,  they  made  their  appeal.  The 
profession  of  any  nobler  or  more  exalted  motive  was 
mocked  at  and  derided  as  hypocrisy.  But  "the  still 
small  voice  "  was  to  be  heard  within  them,  if  they  would 
only  listen  to  it.  It  was  Butler's  supreme  merit  that 
he  ventured  in  an  uncongenial  time  to  call  attention  to 
it ;  and  partly  by  his  weighty  utterances,  which  con- 
vinced men,  as  it  were,  in  spite  of  themselves,  but  not 
a  little  also  by  the  force  of  an  example  which,  if  un- 
obtrusive, was  still  singularly  consistent,  he  succeeded 
in  bringing  home  to  men  what  had  become  for  many  a 
dormant  or  almost  forgotten  truth. 

2.  I  should  be  inclined  to  place  second  the  deep 
sense  of  personal  religion  and  of  direct  obhgation  to 


GENEEAL  ESTIMATE  AND  SUMMAEY  229 


a  moral  and  personal  God  which  so  greatly  distinguishes 
Butler's  writings  from  those  of  mostof  his  contemporaries. 
While  they  approached  God  from  the  side  of  the  logical 
intellect,  regarding  Him  primarily  in  tlie  light  of  an 
intellectual  necessity,  the  inevitable  complement  of  any 
rational  theory  of  the  universe ;  Butler,  advancing  to 
the  belief  from  the  side  of  conscience,  found  in  God, 
far  more  than  an  intellectual  abstraction  or  a  logical 
necessity,  a  moral  judge  and  governor,  of  whose  nature 
and  purposes  conscience  spoke  to  man  with  no  indistinct 
or  uncertain  sound.  To  him  it  seemed  quite  incredible 
that  this  voice  so  august  and  so  authoritative  should  be 
anything  less  than  the  voice  of  God  Himself  speaking 
in  and  through  man.  But  if  so,  and  if  conscience  be  the 
culminating  fact  in  the  universe  as  known  to  man,  then 
it  cannot  but  be  that  the  whole  of  Nature  and  all  her 
arrangements  are  subordinate  to  a  moral  purpose,  and 
lend  themselves  to,  and  indeed  demand,  a  moral  in- 
terpretation. Such  an  interpretation  it  may  indeed 
be  impossible  for  us,  with  our  limited  knowledge  and 
limited  outlook,  to  be  able  at  present  fully  to  give ; 
and  this,  as  we  have  seen,  Butler  in  the  Analogy  strenu- 
ously maintains ;  but  that  there  is  and  must  be  a  moral 
plan  and  meaning  behind  and  at  the  back  of  the  whole 
of  Nature  he  never  for  a  moment  doubts.  The  belief 
thus  defined  in  a  moral  and  personal  God,  Butler  felt  to 
the  core  of  his  being ;  it  underlies  all  his  philosophising ; 
yet  the  deep  religious  feeling  by  whicli  it  was  accom- 
panied was  in  general  severely  repressed,  is  seldom 
allowed  to  obtrude  itself,  or  obviously  appear.  We  are, 
as  we  read,  conscious  of  its  presence,  rather  than  can 
clearly  perceive  it ;  yet  every  now  and  then  tlie  closely 
suppressed  feeling  breaks,  as  it  were,  through  the 
crust  of  carefully  laboured  and  judicially  worded 
argument,  and  we  find  ourselves  in  the  presence  of  a 
man  to  whom,  as  to  Newman  afterwards,  God  and  His 


230    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


judgments  and  dealings  are  the  most  certain  of  all 
realities ;  one  who  can  as  little  question  or  doubt  them 
as  he  can  the  fact  of  his  own  existence.  We  may  refer 
for  illustration  to  such  passages  as  the  beautiful  prayer 
with  which  the  second  sermon  "  On  the  Love  of  our 
Neighbour "  concludes ;  to  the  greater  part  of  the  two 
sermons  on  "  The  love  of  God " ;  and  to  the  opening 
and  concluding  chapters  of  the  Analogy.  In  this  case, 
again,  Butler's  message  fell  on  not  irresponsive  ears ;  and 
though  it  would  be  absurd  to  attribute  mainly  to  his 
influence  the  religious  revival  by  which  the  later  part 
of  the  eighteenth  century  was  marked, — a  revival  with 
the  methods  and  some  even  of  the  doctrines  of  which 
Butler  had,  as  we  know  even  from  his  published 
writings,  but  little  sympathy, — yet,  on  the  other  hand, 
his  writings  did  much  to  secm-e  for  the  spiritual  teach- 
ings of  Wesley  and  Whitfield  a  readier  reception  among 
the  better  sort  of  more  educated  people  than  they  would 
otherwise  have  met  with,  and  commended  them  to 
readers  who,  apart  from  his  influence,  might  have  been 
little  disposed  to  listen  to  them.  At  the  same  time,  the 
publication  of  the  Analogy  seems  also  to  have  dealt 
a  blow  to  popular  Deism  from  which  it  never  whoUy 
recovered.  It  is  at  least  certain  that  during  the  second 
half  of  the  eighteenth  century  the  deistical  wi-itings 
steadily  declined  in  prestige  and  influence ;  and  though 
Mr.  Pattison  may  be  right  in  his  contention,  that 
Deism  was,  when  Butler  wrote,  already  on  the  decline, 
and  that  men  abandoned  its  positions  more  from  sheer 
weariness  of  the  controversy  than  because  they  felt 
themselves  overborne  by  the  weight  of  the  opposing 
arguments,  still,  the  fact  remains  that  no  serious 
answer  to  the  Analogy  was  even  attempted,  and  that 
Butler  was  actually  left  in  possession  of  the  field.  Tlie 
arguments  of  the  Deists,  if  not  entirely  disposed  of,  had 
at  least  been  shown  not  to  be  sufficiently  strong  to  up- 


GENERAL  ESTIMATE  AND  SUMMARY  231 


set  the  fabric  of  the  Christian  faith ;  and  that  faith 
gained  not  a  little  in  popular  estimation  from  having 
for  its  champion  one  who  was  not  only  so  capable  but 
also  so  judicial,  and  still  more  so  transparently  pious,  as 
was  Bishop  Butler. 

3.  This  brings  me  to  a  third  characteristic  of  his 
writings  which  has,  for  Englishmen  at  any  rate,  tended 
greatly  to  enhance  their  permanence  and  value.  The 
conspicuous  fairness  and  impartiality  with  which  he 
states  his  case  :  his  anxiety  not  to  exaggerate  but  rather 
to  underestimate  and  understate  the  evidence  for  the 
position  he  is  maintaining:  his  scrupulous  and  un- 
deviating  regard  and  attention  to  fact.  It  was  this  love 
of  and  anxious  regard  for  fact  which  led  him  himself 
to  desert  the  high  a  priori  road,  so  popular  with  most 
of  his  predecessors  and  contemporaries,  and  follow  the 
safer  path  of  careful  observation,  and  of  generalisation, 
based  on  those  observations,  so  that  at  each  step  his 
readers  should  be  able  to  verify  and  judge  of  his  con- 
clusions in  the  light  of  their  own  experience.  It  was 
by  the  adoption  of  such  a  method  that  Butler  may  be 
almost  said  to  have  brought  about  in  the  sphere  of 
morals  and  religion  the  same  revolution  which  Bacon 
is  supposed  to  have  effected  in  the  domain  of  natural 
science.  The  methods  which  had  delighted  Clarke 
and  his  contemporaries,  so  pretentious  in  form,  so  un- 
satisfying in  substance,  came  gradually  under  Butler's 
influence  to  be  distrusted  and  abandoned,  and  were 
replaced  by  appeals  to  sober  fact  and  individual  ex- 
perience. Certainly  the  reality,  if  not  the  compre- 
hensiveness, of  the  conclusions  reached,  has  gained  by 
the  change.  Men  now  feel  that  they  stand  on  firm 
ground ;  that  the  conclusions  of  the  religious  conscious- 
ness rest,  or  are  capable  of  resting,  on  the  same  ground 
of  individual  verification  and  widely  extended  experience 
as  do  those  of  science  itself.    Closely  associated  with 


232    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

this  reverence  for  fact  was  another  characteristic  which 
has  won  for  Butler's  works  honourable  distinction 
among  theological  writings,  namely,  a  readiness  to  face 
unwelcome  or  unpalatable  truths,  if  only  they  are 
supported  by  sufficient  evidence.  His  whole  writings 
exhibit  a  brave  and  scrupulous  care  not  to  pass  by  any 
objection,  if  real  and  well  founded,  merely  because  it  is 
awkward  or  difficult  to  meet.  In  his  sermons  on  the 
Love  of  God  and  the  Ignorance  of  Man  he  has  insisted 
on  what  he  calls  resignation,  which  might  perhaps  be 
described  as  a  kind  of  Christian  stoicism,  as  one  of  the 
chiefest  of  Christian  graces  and  virtues;  he  has  him- 
self practised  with  more  than  ordinary  success  the 
virtue  which  he  preached.  It  is  this  feature  in  his 
writings  which  has  wrung  from  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen,  in 
spite  of  the  many  unfavourable  criticisms  wliich  he  feels 
bound  to  pass  upon  them  in  detail,  no  unstinted  measiire 
of  praise.  It  is  this  which  will  always  recommend  them 
to  tempers  of  a  manly  and  resolute  type.  "  Though  he 
slay  me,  yet  will  I  put  my  trust  in  him,"  was  scarcely 
less  Butler's  motto  than  that  of  the  Psahnist  of  old. 

4.  We  will  take  next  an  aspect  of  Butler's  method, 
much  insisted  on  by  Mr.  Gladstone,  to  which  that 
distinguished  statesman  attaches  the  greatest  import- 
ance.^ "No  writer,"  says  he,  "has  ever  insisted 
more  strenuously  than  Butler  that,  on  the  one  hand, 
the  amount  of  the  beUef  which  is  yielded  to  any 
conclusion  must  be  measured  by  the  amount  and 
character  of  the  evidence  which  can  be  adduced  in 
support  of  it ;  but  that,  on  the  other  hand,  in  aU 
practical  matters  (and  religion  is,  of  coui'se,  concerned 
directly  with  practice)  we  have  to  content  ourselves 
with  a  kind  and  amount  of  evidence  which  faUs  far 
short  of  demonstration.  It  behoves  us,  consequently, 
to  act  in  this  as  we  do  in  all  other  practical  matters,  and 

'  Subsidiary  Studies,  part  i.  chaji.  i.  pp.  6-9. 


GENERAL  ESTIMATE  AND  SUMMARY  233 


instead  of  complaining  that  the  evidence  is  not  greater  or 
more  complete  than  it  is,  to  try  and  ascertain  honestly 
and  fairly  on  which  side  the  balance  of  evidence  lies,  and 
having  done  so,  guide  our  conduct  in  accordance  with 
the  results  thus  arrived  at."  To  do  this,  to  trust  the 
conclusions  we  have  honestly  come  to,  may  be,  as 
Butler  suggests,  a  part  of  our  probation.  Certain  it  is 
that,  were  the  evidence  in  these  matters  more  demon- 
strative and  complete  than  it  is,  there  would  be  less 
merit  in  attending  to  the  conclusions  based  upon  it. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  incompleteness  of  the  evidence 
leaves  large  possibilities  for  the  exercise  by  us  of  faith 
and  hope,  which  nevertheless  may  be  based  upon  reason 
and  a  careful  scrutiny  of  the  evidence  submitted  to  us. 
It  is  because  the  Analogy  thus  inculcates,  as  a  matter  of 
good  sense  and  duty,  a  method  and  course  of  proceeding 
which  in  all  practical  matters  men  of  wisdom,  and  pre- 
eminently statesmen,  are  constantly  called  upon  to 
adopt,  that  therefore,  in  Mr.  Gladstone's  view,  the  care- 
ful study  of  the  work  furnishes  so  excellent  a  training 
for  those  who  in  any  capacity  are  called  on  to  mix  in 
affairs.  To  be  content  with  the  evidence  we  have,  and 
using  it  for  all  that  it  is  worth,  but  not  for  more  than  it 
is  worth,  to  come  upon  it  to  the  best  conclusion  we  can 
reach ;  and,  having  come  to  such  a  conclusion,  to  carry 
it  out  manfully  and  consistently  in  act, — this  is  the 
course  which  makes  a  man  great  in  affairs,  which  con- 
stitutes the  spirit  of  true  statesmanship.  But  it  is  a 
spirit  very  similar  to  this  which,  applied  to  matters  of 
religion,  constitutes  in  Butler's  view  true  wisdom.  It 
is  such  a  spirit  which  from  beginning  to  end  of  the 
Analogy  he  consistently  advocates,  one  which  he  never 
wearies  of  pressing  upon  his  readers  as  the  secret  of  life 
here,  and  not  less  assuredly  of  life  hereafter. 

5.  Another  valuable  thought  in  Butler,  closely  con- 
nected in  his  mind  with  the  last,  is  his  clear  apprehen- 


234    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


sion  of  the  great  extent  of  human  ignorance, — or  what 
comes  to  the  same  thing  only  stated  in  other  words,  the 
narrow  limits  of  human  knowledge.  Like  some  modem 
Socrates,  he  reiterates  with  emphasis  and  insistence  the 
message — "  Know  thyself  "  ;  "  Eecognise,  indeed,  thine 
own  powers  and  capacities,  but  recognise  no  less  their 
limitations  and  deficiencies";  "Lay  no  claim  to  an  omni- 
science thou  dost  not  and  canst  not  possess."  This 
doctrine  comes  very  near  to  being  the  central  doctrine  of 
his  system.  In  the  first  place  in  which  it  appears,  the 
sermon  on  the  Ignorance  of  Man,  Butler,  while  hinting 
at  several  results  which  are  worked  out  at  length  in  the 
Analogy,  uses  the  doctrine  mainly  for  moral  purposes, 
to  point  out  how  real  a  part  of  our  probation  this  con- 
dition of  partial  ignorance  may  be,  and  also  to  enforce 
those  tempers  of  teachableness,  humility,  open-minded- 
ness,  and  faith  which  should  be  the  natural  consequences 
of  such  a  condition.  In  the  Analogy  the  doctrine  is 
used  as  a  key  by  which  to  unlock  some  of  the  dark 
riddles  which  the  Universe  presents  to  us,  and  of  the 
mysteries  in  revealed  religion  itself.  Thus  in  the 
first  part  of  the  Analogy  Butler  finds  in  the  narrow 
limits  of  himian  knowledge  the  explanation  of,  and 
the  answer  to,  the  objections  wliich  are  often  brought 
against  the  arrangements  of  the  Universe,  or  the 
laws  of  nature,  on  the  ground  that  they  are  incom- 
patible with  the  wisdom,  justice,  or  goodness  of  God. 
Such  objections,  answers  Butler,  might  have  weight 
were  we  in  a  position  to  view  the  plan  of  the  Universe 
as  a  whole ;  but  inasmuch  as  we  can  at  most  apprehend 
or  grasp  but  a  very  small  part  of  the  whole  scheme,  and 
have  necessarily  a  very  imperfect  conception  of  the 
object  to  which  the  whole  plan  is  directed,  it  is  obvious 
that  we  are  not  in  any  sort  of  position  rightly  to  criticise 
the  means ;  and  that  objections  are  quite  unavailing 
to  which  it  is  always  possible  that,  did  we  know  more, 


GENEEAL  ESTIMATE  AND  SUMMARY  235 


a  complete  and  triumphant  answer  might  be  given. 
And  these  considerations  advanced  by  Butler  receive 
more  force  when  we  observe  that  in  many  cases  the 
discoveries  of  recent  science  have  had  the  effect  of 
showing  things,  which  were  supposed  to  be  useless 
and  even  harmful,  to  be  necessary  or  advantageous  ; 
and  further,  instincts  or  arrangements,  which  have 
been  regarded  in  the  past  as  wantonly  cruel,  appear, 
as  a  result  of  fuller  knowledge,  to  be  necessary  and  even 
beneficent.  It  must  further  be  remembered  that,  as 
Butler  urges,  not  only  have  we  an  imperfect  knowledge 
of  the  field  which  may  be  regarded  as  coming  within 
the  scope  of  our  observation,  but  there  are  whole  regions 
both  of  time  and  space  which  lie  wholly  beyond  our 
ken ;  and  it  is  obvious  that  the  plan,  or  scheme,  which 
God  designs  must  have  reference  not  to  this  world  alone 
but  to  the  Universe  as  a  whole.  This  fact  opens  up 
possibilities,  and  suggests  problems,  which  we  cannot 
imagine  or  conceive.  But  while  Butler  rises,  as  scarcely 
any  other  theological  thinker  has  risen,  to  the  full 
measure  of  this  high  argument,  he  is  careful  to  point  out 
that  within  the  limits  which  actually  concern  us  we 
have  sufficient  information  at  our  disposal,  if  we  will 
only  reasonably  make  use  of  it,  to  assure  us  of  the  truth 
of  the  main  positions  of  our  religion,  and  to  enable  us 
to  exercise  all  reasonable  foresight  in  respect  of  our 
conduct  here  and  now. 

What  is  true  of  nature  and  its  arrangements  is 
equally  likely  to  Ije  true  in  the  sphere  of  revelation ; 
at  least,  we  shall  think  so  if  we  recognise  the  same  God 
to  be  the  author  alike  of  nature  and  revelation.  For 
revelation,  no  less  than  nature,  presents  itself  as  a 
scheme  imperfectly  understood  ;  revelation  no  less  than 
nature  aims  at  ends,  and  accomplishes  them  by  means, 
which  we  can,  at  best,  imperfectly  apprehend.  Here 
again  our  ignorance  will  naturally  cause  many  things  in 


236    BISHOP  BUTLEE:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


the  substance  of  the  revelation  to  seem  unexpected,  un- 
intelligible, even  perhaps  open  to  objection.  Many 
such  things  would  cease  to  seem  so  did  we  only  know 
more,  and  could  we  see  further.  We  are  still  in  a 
position  of  seeing  in  a  glass  darkly,  of  having  to  read 
riddles  which  surpass  our  power  of  guessing.  Yet  here 
again  there  are  some  points  which  we  recognise  as  beyond 
dispute.  That  God  in  revelation  aims  at  moral  ends 
we  take  for  granted ;  and  also,  that  all  the  arrange- 
ments are  such  as  are  directly  conducive  to  a  moral 
result.  And  therefore  here  it  is,  as  Butler  urges,  in 
the  last  degree  imreasonable  to  use  the  fact  of  our 
ignorance — the  fact  that  we  do  not  know  more  than  we 
actually  do  know — as  a  positive  argument  against 
doctrines  of  the  truth  of  which  we  are  assured  on 
sufficient  evidence.  Eevelation  has  done  so  much  to 
raise  the  moral  standard  of  mankind  that  the  fact  that 
there  are  difficulties,  due  to  our  ignorance  or  imperfect 
apprehension,  on  certain  points  connected  with  it, 
should  be  no  bar  in  the  eyes  of  reasonable  men  to  our 
accepting  it  as  a  whole. 

To  some  extent  we  may  employ  the  same  line  of  argu- 
ment not  only  to  meet  difficulties  in  the  contents  of 
revelation,  but  also  to  meet  objections  which  may  be 
brought  against  the  kind  and  amount  of  revelation  vouch- 
safed to  us.  Here  again  the  question  how  the  Infinite 
would  communicate  with,  and  make  His  nature  and  will 
known  to  the  finite,  is  a  matter  so  incomprehensible 
and  so  inevitably  veiled  in  mystery  that  it  is  impossible 
to  dogmatise  about  it.  All  that  we  can  do  is  to  assure 
ourselves  that  what  claims  to  be  a  revelation  from  on 
high  is  of  such  a  character  as  not  to  be  incompatible 
with  the  divine  justice  and  goodness,  and  that  it  can 
produce  such  credentials  as,  taken  in  connection  with 
the  character  of  the  revelation  itself,  make  the  truth 
and  reality  of  the  revelation  more  likely  than  not.  We 


GENERAL  ESTIMATE  AND  SUMMARY  237 


must  not  then  arbitrarily  ascribe  a  completeness  and 
infallibility  to  the  divine  revelation  which  it  does  not 
claim  for  itself ;  nor,  on  the  other  hand  reject  it  because 
the  revelation  is  not  as  complete,  or  as  completely 
authorised  and  attested,  as  we  could  wish  it  to  have  been. 
Considerations  such  as  these  are  not  without  weight  at 
the  present  time,  and  should  help  us  in  dealing  with  those 
questions  as  to  the  extent  and  character  of  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  Old  Testament  which  are  being  now  discussed. 

6.  We  come  now  to  consider  what  value  we  must 
attach  to  the  main  argument  of  the  Analogy  itself.  Do 
we  get  help  either  in  the  way  of  direct  proof,  or  as 
supplying  answers  to  objections,  from  considering  the 
analogies  and  resemblances  that  exist  between  the 
course  of  nature,  as  observation,  experience,  and  science 
reveal  it  to  us,  and  that  account  of  God's  methods  of 
working  in  the  spiritual  world  which  revelation  makes 
known  to  us  ?  I  think  we  must  conclude  we  do,  though 
the  answer  to  the  doubts  and  perplexities  of  our  own 
time  may  be  less  conclusive  than  was  the  answer  to 
contemporary  Deism.  To  the  Deists  Butler's  answer 
was  indeed  complete  or  almost  complete.  Granted,  as 
most  of  the  Deists  thought  to  be  the  case,  and  even  held 
to  be  demonstrably  certain,  that  the  Universe  is  the 
work  of  an  all-wise,  all-powerful,  and  perfectly  good 
Creator  and  Governor,  then  to  show  that  the  works  and 
laws  of  nature  which  are  admitted  to  be  His  handiwork, 
exhibit  the  same  kind  of  difficulties,  and  are  open  to 
the  same  kind  of  objection,  which  are  taken  to  the  doc- 
trines contained  in  revelation,  is  a  real  answer  to  those 
who  in  the  latter  case  urge  these  difficulties  and  object- 
tions  as  fatal  to  the  truth  and  authority  of  that  revela- 
tion. If,  in  the  first  case,  the  difficulties  and  objections 
urged  are  not  sufficient  to  shake  men's  faith  as  to  the 
divine  authorship  and  governance  of  the  Universe, 
why  should  similar  difficulties  occurring  in  revelation 


238    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


shake  their  faith  as  to  its  divine  origin  and  authority  ? 
And  as  against  the  Deists  again,  Butler's  other  contention, 
on  which  we  have  ah'eady  commented,  had  great  force. 
Is  it  not  probable  that  in  the  sphere  of  nature  the 
difficulties  which  present  themselves,  and  the  apparent 
anomalies  that  occur,  are  to  be  explained  by  the  con- 
sideration that  om  knowledge  is  very  limited,  and  that 
we  can  apprehend  very  imperfectly  either  the  objects 
at  which  God  aims,  or  the  means  by  which  He  seeks  to 
encompass  these  ends  and  to  work  out  these  objects  ? 
But  if  this  explanation  holds  good,  and  by  many  of  the 
Deists  it  was  considered  to  hold  good,  in  the  case  of 
nature,  may  not  a  similar  explanation  hold  good  in  the 
case  of  much  that  is  obscure  or  dark  or  difficult  in  the  con- 
tents of  revelation  itself  ?  Here  too,  as  in  natui-e,  we  are 
dealing  with  a  scheme  or  plan  which  is  too  vast  and  far- 
reaching,  to  be  altogether  understood  ;  so  that  it  need  fill 
us  with  no  surprise  if  there  are  parts  and  elements  wliich 
seem  anomalous  and  contrary  to  what  we  should  expect. 

And  this  latter  observation  of  Butler's,  perhaps,  unlike 
the  former,  avails  as  an  answer  of  some  force  to  meet 
the  deeper  and  more  far-reaching  scepticism  of  our  own 
day.  For  the  question  raised  now  no  longer  relates  to 
the  divine  authorship  of  revelation  only,  but  also  touches 
the  divine  authorship  and  government  of  the  Universe 
itself.  Is  the  structure  of  nature,  as  science  reveals  it 
to  us,  compatible,  it  is  asked,  with  the  belief  in  a  divine 
authorship  and  divine  government  of  it  ?  It  is  obviously 
to  the  point  to  say  that  while  there  is  much,  as  philo- 
sophers from  Socrates  to  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  have 
pointed  out,  which  points  to  such  an  origin  and  such  a 
government,  our  knowledge  is  yet  so  limited  that  we 
may  well  set  down  what  seems  to  us  incompatible  with 
or  contradictory  to  such  a  conclusion  to  the  score  of  our 
ignorance;  and  all  the  more  since  many  of  the  dis- 
coveries of  science  have  tended  to  give  a  meaning,  and  a 


GENERAL  ESTIMATE  AND  SUMMARY  239 


beneficent  meaning,  to  facts  and  arrangements  which, 
before  such  knowledge,  seemed  to  us  often  dark  and 
inscrutable.  And  then,  the  doctrines  of  evolution  and 
development,  which  hold  so  important  a  place  in  all 
modern  scientific  speculation,  have  in  several  ways  come 
to  the  aid  of  apologetics,  and  have  helped  at  certain 
points  to  enforce  and  expound  Butler's  main  argument. 
For,  while  they  tell  us  nothing  about  the  origin  of  the 
world  or  the  initial  force  which  set  evolution  in  motion, 
or  the  mind  which  determined  the  direction  which 
development  should  take,  and  are  therefore  as  recon- 
cilable with  Theism  as  with  any  other  hypothesis  of  the 
ultimate  origin  of  the  Universe, — and  even  tend  to  con- 
firm the  ultimate  postulates  of  Theism,  since  they 
recognise,  as  far  as  our  knowledge  extends,  in  man's 
intellectual  and  moral  endowments  the  highest  product 
to  which  evolution  has  given  birth  and  development  has 
reached, — they  have,  on  the  other  hand,  almost  in- 
definitely widened  our  conception  of  the  method  of 
God's  working,  bringing  home  to  our  minds,  in  a  way 
in  which  it  had  never  been  brought  home  before,  an 
apprehension  of  the  infinite  extent  of  His  operations 
and  plans  alike  in  time  and  space.  In  this  way  such 
ideas  have  added  force  to  the  plea  which  Butler  urges 
against  overestimating  the  range  of  our  knowledge  or 
our  faculties,  and  raising  up  for  ourselves  difficulties 
because  we  cannot  see  more  than  we  do.  Within  the 
range  of  our  vision,  and  in  ways  that  we  can  see,  things 
are  working  for  good,  for  order,  and  righteousness ;  is  it 
not  wise,  then,  and  reasonable  to  "  trust  the  larger  hope," 
and  to  hold  that  beyond  that  range,  and  in  ways  we  do 
not  see,  they  are  doing  the  same  ? 

And  turning  next  from  nature  to  revelation,  do  not 
these  same  ideas  give  us  in  this  field  a  better  answer  to 
many  of  our  difficulties  than  any  which  Butler  was  able 
to  suggest  ?    We  are  moving,  indeed,  along  the  lines 


240    BISHOP  BUTLER  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


which  he  indicated ;  we  are  following  out,  as  he  bade  us, 
the  analogy  which  exists  between  nature  and  revelation ; 
but  new  ideas  have  given  our  method  a  fresh  direction 
and  in  some  respects  a  more  hopeful  outlook.  If  we 
can  trace  everywhere  evolution  and  development  in  the 
field  of  nature,  may  we  not  expect  to  find  them,  and  do 
we  not  actually  find  them,  in  the  sphere  of  revelation 
as  well  ?  St.  John  seems  to  regard  revelation  as  a 
gradual  process,  continuing  through  the  ages,  culmin- 
ating in  the  clear  manifestation  of  the  Son  of  God,  who 
was  yet  the  same  Logos  that  had  been  in  the  world 
from  the  beginning.^  The  author  of  the  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews  tells  us  that  God,  who  had  "  at  sundry  times  and 
in  divers  manners  "  spoken  unto  the  fathers  by  the  pro- 
phets, hath  in  these  last  days  spoken  unto  us  by  His 
Son.2  But  if  we  thus  conceive  of  revelation  as  a  gradual 
revealing  of  God  Himself  to  man,  a  process  of  gradual 
development,  of  self-realisation  continued  through  many 
ages,  then  it  is  obvious  that  the  earlier  stages  in  the 
process,  though  they  undoubtedly  contained  germs  of 
truth,  must  have  been  incomplete  and  imperfect,  adapted 
to  the  needs  and  ideas  of  ages  which  were  yet  in  a 
rudimentary  stage  of  enlightenment.  But  further,  the 
moral  ideas  possible  in  such  ages  must  have  differed 
widely  from  the  full  light  of  Christian  truth  ;  and  we  can 
well  understand  the  occurrence  at  such  a  time  of  beliefs 
which,  while  mixed  up  with  elements  of  truth,  seem  to 
us  to  be  at  best  imperfect  and  a  stage  only  towards 
something  better.  As  instances  of  such  beliefs,  we  may 
quote  that  one  prevalent  among  the  Jews,  that  they 
were  commissioned  by  God  to  destroy  the  Canaanite 
races,  or  that  other  one,  so  widely  held,  that  the  sins  of 
the  fathers  were  visited  directly  upon  the  children.  In 
each  of  these  beliefs  we  recognise  now  an  element  of 
truth  and  right ;  but  mixed  up  with  it,  as  we  look  back 
'  St.  John  i.  1-6.  ■  Hebrews  i.  1. 


GENERAL  ESTIMATE  AND  SUMMARY  241 


with  our  fuller  light,  there  is  also  what  certainly  seems 
to  us  a  mixture  of  falsehood  as  well.  And  the  conception 
of  God  Himself  has  gradually  matured.  Almost  from  the 
first  the  Hebrew  people  thought  of  God  as  a  person,  as 
a  creator,  one  standing  in  intimate  relations  to  them- 
selves. To  Moses  he  is  revealed  as  the  Great  Lawgiver 
delivering  those  ten  "  words  "  or  principles  which  have 
been  the  foundation-stones  of  almost  all  progressive 
moraUty  ever  since ;  while  at  the  same  time  He  proclaims 
Himself  also  as  One  who  is  Eternal  and  Unchangeable. 
To  the  prophets  His  spiritual  nature  becomes  gradually 
more  apparent ;  they  learn  to  regard  Him  as  one  whose 
object  it  is  to  draw  men  ever  more  and  more  into  con- 
formity with  Himself,  and  for  this  purpose  as  founding 
a  kingdom  of  righteousness  upon  earth.  If  this  king- 
dom assumed  in  the  minds  of  many  a  too  material 
shape,  that  need  not  surprise  us,  when  we  recognise  that 
religion  is  throughout  a  process  of  growth  and  develop- 
ment, and  that  ideas  appear  in  germ  and  in  imperfect 
shapes  before  men  can  apprehend  them  in  their  complete 
and  final  form.  In  that  form  they  were  at  length  pre- 
sented to  us  in  the  Person  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ ; 
but  it  has  taken  nineteen  centuries  more  to  enter  into 
the  full  meaning  of  His  teaching,  nor  do  we  seem  yet  to 
have  sounded  all  its  depths.  Different  ages  and  different 
Churches  have  made  their  several  contributions ;  but 
all  the  lessons  are  not  yet  exhausted,  nor  all  its  meaning 
fully  ascertained.  But  this  slowly  maturing  process 
bears,  it  is  obvious,  great  resemblance  to  those  age-long 
processes  by  which  in  the  providence  of  God  this  world 
has  been  gradually  fashioned  and  prepared,  first  for  the 
appearance  of  life,  and  then  to  be  the  habitation  of 
intellectual,  moral,  and  spiritual  beings  such  as  man. 

And  as  in  nature,  so  too  in  revelation,  these  ideas  of 
evolution  and  development  have  tended  to  heighten 
and  enhance  our  idea  of  the  scope  and  far-reachingness 
i6 


242    BISHOP  BUTLER  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


of  the  divine  plan,  or  scheme  of  God's  redemption.  It 
may  be  that  in  a  sense  analogous  to,  and  yet  different 
from,  that  in  which  St.  Paul  uses  the  expression,  the 
whole  creation  has  from  its  earhest  birth  been  "  groan- 
ing and  travailing  in  pain  together  until  now," — 
travailing  in  the  hope  "  that  itself  also  shall  be  delivered 
from  the  bondage  of  corruption  into  the  glory  of  the 
liberty  of  the  sons  of  God  "  ;  ^  and  that  we  are  the  heirs 
of  all  the  ages,  "  that  they  without  us  should  not  be 
made  perfect."  -  But  supposing  this  to  be  so,  or  even 
if  it  probably  may  be  so,  then  what  a  vista  of  a  great 
far-reaching  plan  do  we  see  before  us,  and  how  clear 
does  it  become  that  God's  thoughts  must  be  in  many 
respects  not  as  our  thoughts,  nor  His  ways  as  our 
ways.*  But  if  we  adopt  this  view,  then  again  we 
may  safely  conclude,  with  Butler,  that  there  will  be,  as 
in  nature  so  in  revelation,  difficulties  which  we  shall 
not  be  able  to  solve,  and  arrangements  the  meaning  of 
which  cannot,  at  present,  be  made  clear  to  us.  And 
surely  the  fact  that  the  great  argument  of  the  Analogy 
should  thus  prove  so  adaptible  to  new  conditions  and 
new  discoveries  is  in  itself  no  little  proof  of  its  value, 
and  should  add  extra  strength  and  secui'ity  to  the 
reliance  which  we  place  upon  it. 

II.  And  by  this  last  consideration  we  are  led  naturally 
to  the  next  point  on  which  I  propose  to  touch, — the 
estimation  in  which  Butler's  works  have  been  held 
during  the  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  which  have  now 
elapsed  since  first  they  were  pubHshed.  On  the  whole, 
I  think  we  may  say  that  theii-  influence  during  all 
this  period  has  been  steadily  growing.  When  the 
Analogy  first  appeared  it  produced  a  great,  though  not 
an  overwhelming,  impression.  Queen  CaroLLne  spoke  in 
approving  terms  of  it,  and  admitted  its  author  to  the 
circle  of  her  intimate  acquaintance.  Many  other  contem- 
1  Eoniaus  viii.  21,  22.         "  Hebrews  xi.  40.  ^  Isaiah  Iv.  8. 


GENERAL  ESTIMATE  AND  SUMMARY  243 


poraries  speak  of  it  in  similar  terms  of  praise.  It  may 
perhaps  be  questioned  if  we  can  ascribe  the  downfall 
of  Deism  to  its  influence.  The  movement  may,  as 
Mr.  Pattison  maintains,  already  have  spent  its  force. 
Still,  it  is  certain  that  Butler  took  his  place  at  once  in 
the  forefront  of  philosophical  writers  of  his  day ;  that 
his  elevation  to  a  bishopric  was  universally  regarded  as 
natural  and  right ;  and  that  the  Deists,  on  their  side, 
never  attempted  any  formal  answer  to  the  arguments 
he  advanced.  Whether  we  can  go  a  step  further  than 
this,  and  set  down,  as  Mr.  Gladstone  is  inclined  to  do,^ 
to  the  effect  of  Butler's  writings  that  rehgious  reaction 
which  (quite  apart  from  the  preaching  of  Wesley  and 
Whitfield,  whose  influence  was  mainly  restricted  to  the 
poor  and  uneducated)  prevailed  among  the  upper  and 
more  educated  classes  during  the  later  part  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  is  more  doubtful.  While  the  fact 
that  such  a  revival  took  place  is  patent  enough,  the  causes 
which  produced  it  are  more  obscure.  The  direct  evidence 
which  Mr.  Gladstone  is  able  to  bring  forward  in  support 
of  his  position  is,  it  must  be^confessed,  somewhat  slight, 
— a  passing  notice  of  a  not  very  complimentary  character 
attributed  to  Pitt,  a  somewhat  doubtful  reference  to  the 
argument  of  the  Analogy  in  one  of  the  letters  of  Lord 
Chesterfield,  and  the  more  substantial  fact  that  during 
these  years  a  good  many  editions  of  Butler's  works  were 
called  for  and  published,  some  of  them  even  in  remote 
parts  of  the  country.  What  is  more  certain  is  that 
during  those  years  these  writings  took  more  and  more 
the  position  of  a  classic,  and  came  to  be  looked  upon 
with  ever-increasing  confidence  as  the  best  and  most 
reasonable  defence  which  the  eighteenth  century  had 
produced  of  the  fundamental  positions  of  the  Christian 
faith.  While  of  other  works  the  influence  was  greatest 
at  first,  and  in  course  of  time  gradually  fell  off,  of 
'  Studies,  part  i.  chap  x.  pp.  132-134. 


244    BISHOP  BUTLEE  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


Butler's  works  almost  alone  can  it  be  said  that  their 
fame  was  as  great,  or  even  greater,  at  the  end  of  the 
century  as  when  they  first  appeared ;  and  though  men's 
thoughts — as  is  evident  from  the  popularity  of  Paley's 
writings  and  the  other  works  on  "  Evidences  "  by  which 
they  were  followed — took  other  directions  than  those 
suggested  by  the  Analogy,  still,  tlie  fact  that  constant 
editions  of  the  Analogy  continued  to  be  called  for  and 
read  is  good  evidence  that  Butler's  argument  was 
regarded  as  neither  unimportant  nor  superseded. 

Of  Butler's  influence  in  the  present  century  it  is 
possible  to  speak  with  greater  confidence.  That  influ- 
ence is  indeed  restricted,  as  Mr.  Gladstone  has  pointed 
out,  to  the  English-speaking  race.  On  the  continent  of 
Europe,  though  a  writer  of  eminence  here  and  there — 
including  Lotze  in  our  own  time — may  have  spoken  of 
him  approvingly,  he  is  practically  unknown;  but  on 
our  own  race  his  influence  has  been  very  great. 
America,  no  less  than  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland, 
has  done  emphatic  honour  to  him.  The  American 
editions  of  his  writings  have  been  scarcely  less  numer- 
ous than  the  English.  Two  at  least  of  the  greatest 
leaders  of  the  Oxford  movement — Cardinal  Newman 
and  Mr.  Keble — have  expressed  in  no  grudging  terms 
their  obligations  to  him ;  and  have  acknowledged  how 
profoundly  their  whole  cast  of  thought  and  method 
were  determined  by  his  writings.  The  unique  position 
which,  among  English  theological  writers,  he  has  come 
to  occupy  is  further  emphasised  by  the  fact  that  for 
more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  his  writings  were 
selected,  along  with  the  works  of  the  greatest  authors 
of  antiquity,  to  hold  a  place  in  the  classical  schools 
at  Oxford.  And  though  after  a  time  they  were  de- 
posed from  this  place,  this  deposition  must  be  attri- 
buted not  to  any  doubt  of  their  value,  or  decline  in 
the  appreciation  accorded  to  them,  but  partly  to  the 


GENEEAL  ESTIMATE  AND  SUMMAEY  245 


growth  of  the  historical  spirit,  which  made  it  seem 
anomalous  to  single  out  the  writings  of  one  special 
author,  apart  from  the  circumstances  in  which  they 
originated,  for  separate  and  special  study ;  partly,  as 
Mr.  Gladstone  suggests,  to  the  force  of  the  reaction 
against  the  High  Church  movement,  which  was,  when 
Butler's  works  were  ultimately  excluded  from  the 
schools,  just  at  its  height. 

Nor  do  the  phenomena  of  our  own  time  witness 
to  any  falling-off  in  the  interest  attaching  either  to 
Butler's  theories  or  his  method.  If  it  be  true  that  a 
more  critical  attitude  has  in  the  last  half  century  been 
taken  up  towards  them  than  in  the  preceding  hundred 
years,  still  the  very  fact  that  they  in  particular  should 
have  been  singled  out  for  criticism  by  writers  of  such 
note,  and  so  widely  removed  from  one  another,  as  Dr. 
Martineau,  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold,  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen, 
and  Dr.  Fairbairn,  is  certainly  an  unconscious  testi- 
mony to  the  importance  and  abiding  value  of  the 
system  criticised.  And  each  one  of  these  writers, 
it  is  further  to  be  observed,  if  he  has  found  points  to 
blame,  has  added  also,  from  his  own  point  of  view, 
a  meed  of  praise  to  Butler's  reputation.  On  the  other 
hand,  as  a  set-off  to  their  criticisms,  our  own  day  has 
witnessed  two  most  impressive  and  remarkable  contri- 
butions to  Butler's  fame :  Dean  Church's  appreciation 
of  him  1 — so  judicial,  so  weighty,  so  well  reasoned — 
cannot  lightly  be  set  aside;  while  Mr.  Gladstone's 
monumental  edition  of  his  works,  left  to  the  English- 
speaking  race  as  the  best  legacy  to  which  he  could 
dedicate  the  declining  years  of  a  busy  and  well-spent  Ufe, 
is  a  remarkable  proof  of  the  fascination  which  Butler's 
method  and  seriousness  exercised  over  a  strong  mind  as 
much  devoted  to  the  cause  of  rehgion  as  it  was  energetic 
in  the  conduct  of  affairs,  and  of   the  unexhausted 

'  See  article  on  "  Butler  "  in  Pascal  and  other  Sermons,  Sermon  II. 


246    BISHOP  BUTLEE  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


importance  which  he  still  believed  to  attach  to  Butler's 
conclusions. 

III.  It  remains  to  conclude  this  chapter  by  drawing 
attention  to  two  points  which,  while  they  lie  apparently 
outside  Butler's  system,  are  yet  really  closely  connected 
with  it,  and  occupied  an  important  place  in  the  tenour 
of  his  life — the  view  which  he  took  of  the  natui'e  and 
functions  of  the  Church,  and  the  importance  he  attached 
to  certain  aspects  of  social  reform  and  philanthropic 
activity.  Both  these  questions  bring  him  into  interest- 
ing relations  to  movements  of  our  own  day. 

1.  His  views  as  to  the  nature  and  functions  of  the 
Church  are  perfectly  explicit,  and  receive  expression 
in  three  separate  passages  of  his  writings — in  the  first 
chapter  of  the  Analorjy,  Part  11.,^  m  the  sermon  preached 
on  behalf  of  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the 
Gospel,^  and  in  his  Charge  to  the  Clergy  of  Durham.^ 
Like  most  of  his  contemporaries,  he  believed  in  man 
having  received  at  the  creation,  or  shortly  after,  a 
revelation  of  that  body  of  truths  which  were  regarded 
as  comprised  in  "  natural  religion."  But  this  revelation 
once  given,  it  was  left  to  man's  own  choice  and  free- 
will either  to  treasure  up  and  preserve,  or  else  to  neglect 
and  ignore  it.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  majority  of  man- 
kind, not  "  caring  to  keep  the  knowledge  of  God  in  their 
minds,"  or  to  practise  the  obligations  which  that  know- 
ledge entailed,  lapsed  gradually  into  all  kinds  of  super- 
stition, ignorance,  and  profaneness.  Indeed,  their  state 
in  respect  of  true  religion  would  have  become  almost 
desperate  had  not  God  chosen  for  Himself  one  peculiar 
people  to  keep  alive  the  knowledge  of  His  name,  and  to 
exercise  those  duties  of  piety  and  religious  observance 
which  that  knowledge  naturally  entails.  To  the  people 
thus  selected  God  imparted,  in  many  ways  and  in  many 
portions,  an  ever  clearer  knowledge  of  His  nature 

1  See  especially  §§  10,  11,  15.  i.  §§  4,  5.        »  §§  12,  13. 


GENEEAL  ESTIMATE  AND  SUMMARY  247 


and  His  will.  Lawgivers,  prophets,  and  psalmists,  by 
their  spoken  utterances  or  their  writings,  spread  among 
such  as  were  willing  to  receive  them  the  messages  with 
which  they  were  severally  entrusted ;  and  the  people 
as  a  whole  acted,  sometimes  consciously,  oftener  uncon- 
sciously, as  trustees  of  and  witnesses  to  the  faith,  which 
was  their  national  heritage.  Thus  they  became  "  the 
servants  of  God  "  for  the  redemption  and  salvation  of 
mankind. 

In  the  fulness  of  time,  "  when  infinite  Wisdom  saw 
proper,  the  general  doctrine  of  religion  was  authori- 
tatively republished  in  its  purity ;  and  the  particular 
dispensation  of  Providence,  which  this  world  is  under, 
manifested  to  all  men,  even  the  dispensation  of  the 
grace  of  God  towards  us  as  sinful  lost  creatures,  to  be 
recovered  by  repentance  through  a  Mediator  who  was 
'  to  make  reconcihation  for  iniquity  and  to  bring  in 
everlasting  righteousness,'  and  at  length  establish  that 
new  state  of  things  foretold  by  the  Prophet  Daniel  under 
the  character  of  a  kingdom  '  which  the  God  of  Heaven 
would  set  up,  and  which  should  never  be  destroyed.' 
This,  including  a  more  distinct  account  of  the  instituted 
means  whereby  Christ  the  Mediator  would  '  gather 
together  in  one  the  children  of  God  that  were  scattered 
abroad,'  and  conduct  them  '  to  the  place  he  is  gone 
to  prepare  for  them,'  is  the  Gospel  of  the  kingdom, 
which  He  foretells  and  commands  should  be  preached  in 
all  the  world  for  a  witness  to  all  nations.  And  it  first 
began  to  be  spoken  by  the  Lord  and  was  confirmed  unto 
us  by  them  that  heard  Him.  '  God  also  bearing  them 
witness,  both  with  signs  and  wonders,  and  with  divers 
miracles  and  gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  according  to  His 
own  will ' ;  by  which  means  it  was  spread  very  widely 
among  the  nations  of  the  world,  and  became  a  witness 
unto  them."  ^ 

"  Ss.  i.  §  3. 


248    BISHOP  BUTLER  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


"  When  thus  much  was  accomphshed,  as  there  is  a 
wonderful  uniformity  in  the  conduct  of  Providence, 
Christianity  was  left  with  Christians  to  be  transmitted 
down  pure  and  genuine,  or  to  be  corrupted  and  sunk, 
in  like  manner  as  the  religion  of  nature  had  been 
before  left  with  mankind  in  general."  ^  But  there  was 
this  difference  between  the  new  and  the  older  dispen- 
sation :  that  while  under  the  older  dispensation  the 
revelation  had  been  originally  entrusted  to  and  pre- 
served by  a  single  nation,  for  the  maintenance  and 
spread  of  the  Gospel,  and  for  its  practical  enforcement 
upon  mankind ,  our  Saviour  instituted  an  universal  Church , 
in  which  the  pure  word  was  to  be  preached,  the  sacra- 
ments duly  administered,  and  a  settled  form  of  worship 
perpetually  celebrated.  To  the  Church  thus  constituted 
a  double  function  was  assigned.  On  the  one  hand,  it 
was  intended  to  keep  alive  and  enforce  the  truths  with 
which  it  was  entrusted  among  those  who  professed  to 
be  its  members,  and  to  see,  so  far  as  it  could,  that  these 
truths  exercised  a  practical  influence  on,  and  received  a 
practical  expression  in,  their  lives.  On  the  other  hand, 
it  was  destined  to  be  in  its  difierent  branches  a  perpetual 
witness  to  the  nations  among  whom  it  was  planted,  who 
had  not  yet  themselves  received  the  message  with  which 
it  was  charged.  The  first  of  these  objects  it  effected,  and 
still  in  part  effects,  by  a  settled  system  of  religious  educa- 
tion, in  which  the  children  belonging  to  it  are  instructed 
"  by  the  ministry  of  the  Word,"  and  by  an  ordered  system 
of  public  rites,  offices,  and  sacraments,  partly  ordained 
by  Christ  Himself,  partly  instituted  by  the  Church  at 
large  or  by  particular  churches,  which  have  had  dis- 
cretion left  them  and  have  received  authority  for  the 
purpose.  The  work,  on  the  other  hand,  of  witnessing 
to  the  heathen  has  naturally  devolved  mainly  on  that 
particular  portion  of  the  Church,  or  those  particular 
1  Ibid.  §  4. 


GENERAL  ESTIMATE  AND  SUMMARY  249 


Churches,  the  members  of  which  have  from  whatever 
cause  been  brought  into  more  immediate  contact  with, 
and  so  been  rendered  specially  responsible  for,  heathen 
countries  or  races.  It  was  a  keen  perception  of  the 
obligation  imposed  in  this  respect  upon  the  English 
Church  and  nation  by  the  then  rapidly  developing 
growth  of  our  trade  and  spread  of  our  colonies  (or 
as  they  were  then  more  usually  called,  plantations) 
which  made  Butler  so  strenuous  a  supporter  of  the 
recently  founded  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the 
Gospel.  He  also  maintains,  what  everyone  who  has 
taken  a  practical  interest  in  missions  cannot  fail  to 
feel,  the  intimate  connection  which  exists  between 
these  two  sides  of  the  Church's  work,  the  maintenance 
and  vitality  of  religion  at  home,  and  the  spread  of  it 
abroad.  If  religion  be  an  active  power  amongst  our- 
selves, the  impulse  to  spread  it  to  others  also  is  sure  to 
arise  and  to  make  itself  felt ;  while  contrariwise,  wher- 
ever the  preaching  of  the  Gospel  to  the  heathen  is  going 
on  in  earnest,  the  zeal  displayed  will  react  upon,  and  so 
will  quicken  and  strengthen  the  reUgious  life  of  those 
who  stay  at  home.  Here,  if  anywhere,  it  is  true  that 
the  measure  with  which  we  mete,  shall  be  measured  to 
us  again ;  that  he  that  gives,  to  him  it  shall  be  given. 

In  neither  of  these  aspects  can  it  be  said  that  the 
work  of  the  Church  of  England  in  the  eighteenth 
century  was  altogether  satisfactory,  and  Butler  himself 
is  not  unaware  of,  indeed  forcibly  recognises,  the 
deficiencies.  A  beginning  of  foreign  missions,  and 
missions  to  our  own  countrymen  who  were  settling 
abroad,  had,  it  is  true,  been  made.  The  Society  for  the 
Promotion  of  Christian  Knowledge,  and  its  offshoot  the 
Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel  in  Foreign 
Parts,  had  both  been  founded ;  but  it  was  still  the  day 
of  small  things ;  nor  had  the  country  or  Church  as  yet 
by  any  means  waked  up  to  the  obligations  which  were 


250    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


devolving  upon  it.  At  home  things,  as  far  as  church 
life  was  concerned,  were  almost  worse.  Butler  in  his 
Durham  Charge  gives  us  some  insight  into  the  condition 
of  things  which  prevailed,  and  the  deficiencies  wliich 
needed  to  be  made  good.  The  picture  which  he  sug- 
gests rather  than  actually  draws  is  decidedly  a  dark 
one,  and  is  confirmed  by  other  good  contemporary 
evidence.  The  churches,  even  the  chancels  for  which 
the  clergy  were  responsible,  were  neglected  and  falling 
into  decay;  new  churches  were  hardly  ever  built;  con- 
gregations were  sparse ;  confirmation  and  the  visiting 
of  the  sick  were  often  neglected;  and  Butler  has  to 
enforce  upon  liis  clergy,  as  if  it  were  almost  a  new 
truth,  the  opportunities  for  usefulness  and  influence 
which  such  occasions  furnished.  Nor  does  he  hesitate 
to  take  even  a  bolder  line  than  this,  and  to  point  to  the 
loss  which  the  Church  suffered,  as  compared  with  the 
Koman  communion  or  even  the  Mohammedan  body,  from 
the  absence  and  neglect  of  external  observances.  Such 
observances,  so  far  from  being  any  necessary  hindrance 
to  spiritual  religion,  will  be,  he  holds,  for  many  people  a 
great  help  towards  it ;  and,  in  any  case,  they  wiU  enable 
the  Church  to  fulfil  more  effectually  its  duty  of  being  "  a 
witness  to  the  world."  Men  are  by  such  observances 
in  spite  of  themselves,  reminded  of  the  reality  and 
importance  of  the  claims  which  religion  makes  upon 
them.  And  as  it  is  one  of  the  primary  objects  and 
duties  of  the  Church  to  give  them  such  a  reminder,  it  is 
clear  that  no  Church  which  neglects  external  observances 
or  allows  them  through  carelessness  to  faU  into  disuse, 
can  be  adequately  fulfilling  its  proper  function. 

So  far  Butler's  teaching  is  much  in  accord  with  much 
that  has  been  emphasised  by  the  religious  re-vival  of  our 
own  days ;  and  the  leaders  of  the  Oxford  movement 
were  in  this  respect  perfectly  justified  in  claiming 
Butler  as  a  pioneer  in  the  reforms  which  they  iusti- 


GENEEAL  ESTIMATE  AND  SUMMARY  251 


tuted,  and  in  sheltering  themselves  under  his  great 
authority.  But  there  is  another  side  of  their  doctrine 
of  which,  it  must  be  confessed,  we  should  look  in  vain 
for  any  justification  in  his  writings,  a  side  with  which, 
indeed,  I  am  inclined  to  think  he  would  have  had  but 
little  sympathy, — the  stress  which  they  have  laid  upon 
the  efficacy  of  the  sacraments  as  being  the  sole,  or  at 
any  rate  the  only  usual,  channel  for  the  communication 
of  divine  grace.  For  the  sacraments,  as  ordinances 
ordained  by  Christ  Himself,  Butler  could  not  but  have 
entertained,  in  accordance  with  his  principles,  the 
greatest  possible  veneration.  Indeed,  a  contemporary 
has  recorded  the  divine  sweetness  and  beauty  with 
which  his  face  was  filled  as  he  took  part  in  his  later 
years  in  the  celebration  of  the  Holy  Communion.  But 
he  nowhere  weaves  any  theory  of  the  sacraments,  even  for 
purposes  of  illustration,  into  the  thread  of  his  argument ; 
and  we  find  hardly  more  than  a  passing  reference  to 
them  either  in  the  Sermons  or  the  Analogy.  Indeed,  a 
high  doctrine  of  sacramental  grace,  while  there  are 
analogies  in  nature  which  seem  to  illustrate  and  even 
favour  it,  must  always  have  something  mysterious,  and 
even  something  arbitrary,  about  it ;  and  Butler  was 
sufficiently  a  child  of  the  eighteenth  century  not  to 
be  drawn  to  doctrines  which  presented  themselves  as 
mysterious  and  in  any  sense  arbitrary.  Thus,  then, 
while  he  loyally  accepted  the  sacraments  as  an  ordi- 
nance of  Christ  Himself,  and  attached  to  them  the 
importance  which  they  naturally  have  as  being  such, 
he  certainly  did  not  give  them  special  prominence  in 
his  teaching,  nor  enter  specially  into  the  rationale  of 
them.  In  this,  as  in  a  good  deal  else,  he  reflects 
faithfully  the  spii'it  of  his  age. 

2.  Of  the  three  lines  of  practical  philanthropy  which 
most  interested  him,  the  importance  which  he  attached 
to  the  first  grew  directly  out  of  the  view  which  he  took 


252    BISHOP  BUTLER:  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


of  the  duties  and  functions  of  the  Church.  Butler 
stepped  forward  as  a  champion  of  the  education  of  the 
poor  at  a  time  when  the  cause  found  few  fi'iends  and 
was  looked  upon  with  suspicion  or  doubt  even  among 
those  who  claimed  to  be  the  most  enlightened  and 
advanced.  But  if  the  business  of  the  Church  was,  as 
Butler  conceived  it  to  be,  to  see  that  the  truths  of 
Christianity  were  not  allowed  to  fall  into  oblivion  and 
neglect,  but  should  exercise  their  proper  influence,  at 
any  rate  on  all  those  who  professed  to  belong  to  the 
Christian  society,  then  it  was  essential  that  the  chil- 
dren entrusted  to  the  Church's  care  should  receive  due 
instruction  in  the  truths  it  was  appointed  to  guard. 
Nor  was  this  all ;  Butler  had,  further,  a  strong  convic- 
tion that  life  could  only  be  properly  and  worthily  Lived 
when  men  used  to  the  utmost  the  means  which  God 
had  in  any  way  placed  in  their  power  for  the  purpose. 
But  knowledge  was  one  of  the  most  important  means 
towards  living  worthily  with  which  God  had  entrusted 
mankind.  To  deprive  children,  therefore,  of  knowledge, 
i.e.  not  to  insti'uct  them  as  far  as  they  were  capable  of 
receiving  instruction,  was  to  inflict  a  great  wrong  upon 
them,  for  it  was  tantamount  to  depriving  them  of  what 
God  had  designed  as  a  means  which  should  help  them 
to  live  worthier,  nobler,  more  prudent,  and  so  happier, 
lives.  To  keep  a  child  ignorant  in  a  civihsed  nation 
was,  he  held,  to  deprive  him  of  his  birthright ;  nor  was 
the  consideration  that  he  might  use  the  knowledge 
given  to  him  amiss  for  a  moment  to  be  weighed  against 
such  a  manifest  wrong. 

The  second  line  in  which  his  philanthropic  activity 
manifested  itself  was  in  the  attempt  to  make  the  rich 
and  the  well-to-do  more  sensible  of  their  obligations 
towards  the  poor  and  destitute.  This  topic  forms  the 
theme  of  the  second  of  his  Sermons  preached  on  PubUc 
Occasions.    The  obligation  he  characteristically  enough 


GENERAL  ESTIMATE  AND  SUMMARY  253 


bases,  in  the  first  place,  on  the  relations  which  in  the 
course  of  nature  arise  between  the  two  orders ;  for 
"  nature  "  is  to  him  always  our  surest  guide  in  all  moral 
questions.  Now,  in  the  course  of  nature  the  rich  can- 
not but  be,  to  a  great  extent  (more  then,  perhaps,  than 
now,  though  even  now  this  remains  largely  true)  the 
guides,  instructors,  and  examples  of  the  poor, — those 
from  whom  the  poor  take  largely  their  tone.  For  the 
poor,  having,  as  Butler  points  out,  but  limited  time  for 
reflection,  and  for  the  most  part  but  Umited  powers  of 
that  kind,  almost  necessarily  take  their  cue  from  their 
social  superiors.  But  this  fact  in  itself  constitutes  an 
obligation  on  the  rich  to  set  them  a  good  example ;  at 
the  least,  to  be  careful  that  the  influence  they  exert 
over  them  is  not  harmful.  Further,  he  held  that,  since 
the  poor  have  but  limited  means  of  obtaining  instruc- 
tion for  themselves,  it  is  the  business  of  the  rich  and 
well-to-do  to  see  that  wholesome  positive  instruction  is 
placed  within  their  reach ;  but  on  this  point  his  argu- 
ment runs  up  into  that  of  the  last  section.  On  another 
side  the  rich  are  under  an  equally  obvious  obligation 
to  relieve  the  distresses  and  necessities  of  the  poor, 
which  the  latter  cannot  always  meet  for  themselves. 
Here  the  very  fact  that  the  rich  have  the  means  of 
doing  this  constitutes  in  itself  an  obligation.  The  chief 
question  will  therefore  be,  not  whether  they  ought  to 
do  it,  but  in  what  ways  they  may  best  and  most 
effectually  do  it ;  and  on  this  point  Butler  pleads 
the  claims  of  charity  schools  and  also  of  organised 
hospitals  as  being  two  of  the  best  proved  and  best 
regulated  means  of  helping  the  necessitous  poor. 

This  brings  me  to  the  third  point  of  his  philanthropic 
activity, — the  interest  he  ever  showed  in  infirmaries 
and  hospitals.  This  interest  was  alike  conspicuous  at 
Bristol,  in  London,  and  at  Newcastle.  Perhaps  the  sym- 
pathy he  felt  with  this  mode  of  aiding  the  poor  may 


254    BISHOP  BUTLER  :  HIS  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

have  been  quickened  by  the  indifferent  health  from 
which  throughout  his  life  he  more  or  less  suffered. 
But  the  Analogy  also  shows  that  the  relief  of  sickness 
had  another  claim  upon  his  interest  as  well.  Why  God 
should  have  permitted  disease  seemed  to  him,  in  our 
present  state  of  ignorance  or  of  partial  knowledge,  as 
inscrutable  a  mystery  as  why  He  should  have  permitted 
the  existence  of  moral  evil.  Both  things  alike  we  have 
to  take  for  granted ;  they  are  facts,  and  undeniable  facts. 
But  in  both  cases  alike  God  has  enabled  man  to  discover, 
or  has  revealed  to  him,  remedies  which  he  can  apply 
for  the  alleviation  of  these  admitted  evils.  In  both  cases, 
as  it  is  man's  obvious  interest,  so  it  is  his  obvious  duty, 
to  apply  these  remedies  which  God  places  within  his 
reach.  But  the  poor,  partly  from  want  of  knowledge, 
even  more  from  want  of  means,  have  not  the  power  of 
obtaining  for  themselves  these  alleviations  and  remedies. 
What,  then,  can  be  more  appropriate  than  that  those 
who  have  alike  the  knowledge  and  the  power  should 
help  to  bring  the  means  of  cure  within  the  reach  of 
those  who  could  not  provide  them  for  themselves? 
Hospitals  have,  as  Butler  fui'ther  points  out,  many 
collateral  advantages  for  the  moral  improvement  of 
those  who  are  inmates  of  them ;  and  the  fact  that  our 
Lord  Himself  spent  so  much  of  His  time  on  earth  in 
healing  the  sick  furnishes  Christians  with  a  strong 
additional  inducement  to  go  and  do  likewise. 

If  I  am  now  to  make  a  summary  of  my  summary,  I 
would  conclude  it  thus.  While  Butler  was  not  one  of 
the  very  greatest  of  thinkers,  nor  one  of  the  very 
chiefest  of  saints,  he  combined  the  characteristics  of  the 
thinker  and  the  saint  in  an  unusual  degree.  Never 
afraid  to  exercise  reason,  or  to  submit  calmly  and 
seriously  to  examination  the  facts  which  he  considered 
established,  however  formidable  and  disquieting  they 
might  appear,  he  yet  never  abandoned  his  fundamental 


GENERAL  ESTIMATE  AND  SUMMARY  255 


religious  beliefs  and  principles — that  God  is,  that  He  is 
just,  that  He  is  good,  that  He  is  Love,  that  He  cares  for 
man  and  seeks  and  longs  to  redeem  and  save  him.  On 
the  other  hand,  he  so  holds  his  religious  beliefs  that 
they  never  blind  him  to  facts.  While  his  thinking  is 
done  under  a  stronger  sense  of  the  greatness  of  the 
issues  involved,  and  consequently  with  greater  serious- 
ness, than  that  of  other  men,  it  is  real  and  true  thinking, 
honest,  circumspect,  and  consistent.  Such  a  mind 
seems  to  me  to  have  a  peculiar  value  and  a  special 
message  for  times  of  transition  like  our  own,  when  dis- 
covery is  active  and  speculation  almost  unlimited.  For 
what  men  at  such  times  need  more  than  all  besides,  is 
"  in  patience  to  possess  their  souls  "  ;  and  this  is  just  the 
frame  of  mind  which  the  Analogy,  beyond  all  other 
books,  inculcates  and  encourages. 


Admieation  defined  by  Hobbes, 

Affections,  particular,  as  mnch 
opposed  to  self-love  as  benevol- 
ence, 100,  101. 

Ambition  not  anti-social,  96,  103. 

American  bishops,  scheme  for  their 
appointment,  29-31. 

Analogy,  its  date  and  publication, 
17 ;  reception  of,  19 ;  its  pur- 
pose, 144,  145,  149  ;  its  main 
positions,  part  i.,  161  If.  ;  part 
ii.,  188  fl'. ;  objections  to  its  mode 
of  reasoning  answered,  212  ff.  ; 
permanent  value  of,  237-242 ; 
summary  of  Deistical  contro- 
versy, 18,  126. 

Anger,  two  kinds,  96 ;  final  cause  of, 
96. 

Anne,  Queen,  58,  70. 
Annet,  129. 

Apollonius  of  Tyana,  141. 
Appetites  have  each  their  special 

objects,  101. 
Aristotle,  18,  105. 
Arnold,   Matthew,   22,    71,  146, 

245. 

Atonement,  the,  139,  197-202. 
Auckland  Castle,  life  at  and  plans 

for,  24,  42,  43. 
Authority  of  conscience,  108,  109, 

228. 

Bagehot,  51,  52,  205,  206. 
Balaam,  sermon  on  the  character 

of,  110. 
Bangorian  controversy,  11. 
Bartlett's  Memoirs,  3. 
Barton,  Rev.  P.,  5. 


Bath,  49. 

Benevolence  a  real  principle  in 
human  nature,  90,  91  ;  vindi- 
cated against  Hobbes,  90,  91  ; 
not  opposed  to  self-love,  100, 
106  ;  not  identical  with  whole  of 
virtue,  224  ;  runs  up  into  piety, 
105. 

Benson,  Bishop,  10,  11,  14,  19,  27, 

49,  71,  72. 
Bentley,  141,  142. 
Berkeley,  Bishop,  49,  71,  72. 
Biographia  Britannica,  3. 
Blackburn,  Archdeacon,  46,  47. 
Blount,  Charles,  129,  141. 
Boswell,  2. 

Bristol,  Butler  becomes  Bishop  of, 
21,  22  ;  life  at  and  administra- 
tion of  diocese  of,  22-26  ;  buried 
at,  50. 

Bristol  Infirmary,  34,  253. 

Brown,  Dr.  J.,  author  of  Estimate 
of  the  Manners  and  Principles  of 
the  Times,  59,  61,  63. 

Browne,  Bishop,  71. 

Butler,  Bishop,  born  at  Wantage, 
4  ;  his  education,  5  ;  correspond- 
ence with  Clarke,  5-8  ;  enters  at 
Oriel  College,  Oxford,  10  ;  resi- 
dence in  Oxford,  11  ;  ordained 
deacon  and  priest,  11  ;  appointed 
preacher  at  the  Rolls,  11  ;  life 
in  London,  12-14  ;  accepts  the 
living  of  Haughton  and  the 
rectory  of  Stanhope,  15  ;  pub- 
lishes his  fifteen  sermons,  15 ; 
and  the  Analogy,  17-19  ;  pre- 
bendary of  Rochester  and  Clerk 
to  the  Closet  to  Queen  Caroline, 


7 


258 


INDEX 


20  ;  Bishop  of  Bristol,  21  ;  and 
Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  22  ;  life  at 
Bristol,  22-26  ;  and  in  London, 
27-40  ;  appointed  Bishop  of  Dur- 
ham, 40  ;  delivers  his  primary 
charge,  43  ;  dies  at  Bath,  49  ; 
buried  at  Bristol,  50  ;  estimate 
of  his  character,  50-56  ;  and  of 
his  writings,  227-242. 

Cambridge  University,  11. 
Canaanites,  extermination  of,  193, 
194. 

Canterbury,  Archbishopric  of,  said 
to  have  been  offered  to  Butler, 

Caroline,  Queen,  19,  20,  21,  37,  71, 
146. 

Chapman,  Dr.,  41. 

Chamctcriatics  (Shaftesbury),  12, 
13,  84,  85. 

Charity  schools,  Butler's  defence 
of,  32-34,  252. 

Charles  i..  King,  his  judicial 
murder,  38. 

Charles  ir..  King,  60. 

Charles  xil.  of  Sweden,  101. 

Chesterfield's,  Lord,  ZcUcrs,  243. 

China,  the  Chinese,  128,  139,  203. 

Christ  a  mediator,  196  ;  prophet 
and  king,  197  ;  vicarious  sacrifice 
of,  199,  200;  why  accepted  as 
Son  of  God,  207,  209  ;  gratitude 
to,  obligatory,  183. 

Christianity  derided  and  neglected, 
61,  62,  217 ;  a  republication, 
with  additions,  of  Natural  Re- 
ligion, 27,  182  ;  its  importance 
vindicated,  181  if. ;  its  proof  com- 
plex, 144,  211,  212 ;  particular 
proofs  of,  207  fi".  ;  objections 
from  want  of  universality  and 
imperfection  of  evidence  met, 
202  ff.  ;  reasonable  attitude  to- 
wards, 216,  217. 

Christianity  as  old  as  the  Creation 
(Tindal),  137-139. 

Christianity  not  Mysterious  (To- 
land),  131-133. 

Chubb,  129. 

Church,  the,  Butler's  views  on,  9, 
28,  246-250. 


Church  of  England  joined  by  Butler, 
9,  47  ;  by  Seeker,  14  :  its  merits, 
39 

Church  of  Rome,  39,  45,  47,  127, 
250. 

Church,  Dean,  55,  245. 

Clarke,  Dr.  Samuel,  corresponds 
with  Butler,  5-7  ;  befriends  him, 
7  ;  consulted  by  him,  11  ;  recom- 
mends him  for  preachership  at 
the  Rolls,  11  ;  his  method,  8, 
231  ;  answers  Hobbes,  79,  80,  81, 
134,  etc.  ;  his  Demmtstralion  of 
tlie  Being  and  Attributes  of  God, 
134,  213  ;  his  Discourse  concern- 
ing the  Unalterable  Obligations  of 
Natural  Religion,  and  the  Truth 
and  Certainty  of  the  Christian 
Rcvelatim,  79,  80,  81,  134;  a 
Christian  Deist,  129,  133  ;  his 
doctrines,  134-137,  179. 

Clergy,  influence  of,  in  eighteenth 
century,  68-72. 

Cole,  23,  24. 

Collins,  141,  142,  143. 

Compassion  a  principle  of  human 
nature,  92,  93  ;  obligatory  char- 
acter of,  93  ;  limits  of,  94,  95. 

Conscience,  a  superior  principle  in 
human  nature,  106-109  ;  a  suf- 
ficient guide  in  conduct,  109, 110  ; 
growth  of,  113,  114  ;  its  origin  not 
discussed  by  Butler,  114, 116  ;  its 
authority,  108,  109  ;  God's  vice- 
roy, 116  ;  witnesses  to  the  moral 
government  of  God,  164,  165  ; 
an  original  and  independent 
principle,  224,  225  ;  vindication 
of  its  claims  by  Butler  one  of  his 
chief  merits,  227,  228. 

Continuity,  principle  of,  156. 

Copernicus,  122,  128. 

Cud  worth  answers  Hobbes,  78, 
79. 

Death  not  necessarily  destruction 
of  vital  powers,  156,  157. 

Deism  what,  128  ;  decay  of,  230. 

Deists  appeal  to  upper  classes,  64, 
147  ;  their  tenets  and  divisions, 
128-145;  classified  by  Clarke, 
135  ;  answered  by  Butler,  144, 


INDEX 


259 


147,174,  175,177,  181,  188,  192, 
237,  238. 

Demonstration  of  the  Being  and 
Attributes  of  God  {C\a,rki),  134. 

Discourse  on  Freethinking,  occa- 
sioned by  the  Rise  and  Growth  of 
a  Sect  called  Freethinkers  [CoWins), 
141. 

Discourse  on  the  Groimds  and 
Reasons  of  the  Christian  Religion 
(Collins),  143. 

Discourses  (Six)  on  the  Miracles  of 
our  Saviour  (Woolston),  143. 

Diseases,  remedies  for,  provided  by 
the  goodness  of  God,  36  ;  analogy 
between  moral  and  physical  dis- 
eases and  their  remedies,  191. 

Drunkenness,  prevalence  of,  in 
eighteenth  century,  67,  68. 

Duelling,  prevalence  of,  98. 

Durham,  ^Bishopric  of,  15,  40,  41. 

Durham  Charge,  17,  43-46,  47, 
147,  250. 

Education,  its  cause  pleaded, 
32  ff.  ;  a  necessary  part  of  the 
provision  for  children,  33  ;  need 
not  unfit  them  for  their  station 
in  life,  33  ;  counteracts  effects  of 
evil  example,  33,  34  ;  education 
necessary  to  fit  us  for  life,  167,168. 

Epitaphs  on  Butler,  56,  57. 

Evidences,  particular,  for  Christian- 
ity, 207-212  ;  not  demonstrative, 
214,  215,  216  ;  imperfection  of, 
part  of  our  probation,  204,  215  ; 
Evil,  difBculty  of  the  existence  of, 
169. 

Example,  power  of  the,  of  upper 
classes,  65,  66. 

Fable  of  the  Bees  (Mandeville), 

12,  75-77,  88. 
Faith,  its  relation  to  reason,  128, 

132  ;  to  miracles,  208,  209. 
Final  cause  of  anger,  96  ;  of  the 

universe,  imperfectly  known ,176. 
Fleetwood,  Bishop,  69. 
Forgiveness  of  injuries,  98,  99. 
Forster,  Dr.  N.,  4,  49,  50. 
Free-will  not  assumed  by  Butler, 

216. 


Future  life,  120,  121,  154-159  ; 
life  a  preparation  for,  167  ff. 

George  i..  King,  58. 
George  ii..  King,  20,  21,  37,  40, 
58,  71. 

Gladstone,  Mr.,  quoted,  16,  41,  55, 
154,  155,  157,  174,  207,  232,  233, 
244,  245. 

God,  demonstration  of  His  Being 
and  Attributes,  by  Clarke,  5,  80  ; 
His  existence  and  creation  of  the 
world  assumed  by  the  Deists, 
148  ;  amoral  and  personal  Being, 
118  ;  the  natural  object  of  love, 
gratitude,  reverence,  120  ;  a  Gov- 
ernor, and  a  moral  Governor,  of 
the  universe,  160,  162,  166;  His 
worship  matter  of  moral  obliga- 
tion, 183  ;  conscience  His  viceroy, 
118. 

Gooch,  Bishop  of  Norwich,  21. 
Government,  how  defined,  160,  161. 

Habits,  how  formed,  168. 

Hallam  quoted,  61. 

Hampstead,  22,  27. 

Happiness,  men  made  to  seek 
their  own,  90  ;  depends  on  the 
possession  of  particular  affections, 

100  ;  right  actions  conducive  to, 

101  ;  connected  with  virtue,  162, 
163 ;  care  for  future  happiness 
reasonable,  220. 

Haughton,  near  Darlington,  15. 

Heaven,  joys  of,  121  ;  true  notion 
of,  172,  173. 

Hell,  121,  172. 

Hoadley,  Bishop,  12. 

Hobbes,  12,  90  ;  founder  of  moral 
philosophy  in  England,  73  ;  his 
definitions  and  doctrines,  73-75  ; 
opposition  to  him,  77-87  ;  criti- 
cised by  Butler,  90,  91. 

Home,  Henry  (afterwards  Lord 
Kames),  17. 

Houghton-le-Spring,  15. 

Hume,  David,  17,  115,  222. 

Hutcheson,  78,  82,  224. 

IcnABOD,,  or  the  Five  Groans  of 
the  Church,  24. 


260 


INDEX 


Identity  not  easily  defined,  219,220  ; 

personal  identity,  219,  222  ;  not 

necessarily  destroyed  by  death, 

155,  156,  222. 
Ignorance  of  man,  sermon  on,  122- 

125  ;  how  used  by  Butler  in  the 

Analogy,     175-178,    198  ;  by 

Bagehot,  206. 
Incapacity  of  judging  what  were  to 

be  expected  in  a  revelation,  188. 
Incarnation,  doctrine  of,  ignored 

by  Locke,  130  ;  by  Tolaud,  132  ; 

and  by  Tindal,  139  ;  asserted  by 

Butler,  183,  197,  198. 
Inequality  of  gifts  the  law  of  life, 

203. 

Inspiration,  189,  192. 

Jekyll,  Sir  George,  Master  of  the 

Rolls,  11,  15,  20. 
Jones,  Butler's  master  at  Gloucester 

and  Tewkesbury,  5. 

Kant,  115,  228. 
Kingswood,  25,  26. 
Kippis,  4,  5. 

Knowledge,  acquisition  of,  not  the 
end  of  life,  124,  125  ;  natm-al, 
and  revelation,  compared,  189, 
190. 

Laud,  Archbishop,  30. 

Lecky  quoted,  68. 

Leslie's  Short  and  Easy  Method  with 

the  Deists,  141. 
Liberty,  39  ;  has  to  be  assumed  in 

practice,  174. 
Life  a  discipline  and  preparation  for 

future  existence,  158,  159,  167, 

168. 

Light  of  nature,  135,  138,  181,  182. 

Locke,  60,  79,  128  ;  his  Season- 
ahleness  of  Christianity,  128, 
130,  131,  135  ;  doctrine  of  per- 
sonal identity,  220,  221. 

London,  12,  13,  25,  26,  31,  34,  63, 
64,  68. 

Love  of  God,  52,  53,  118-122. 
Love  of  our  neighbour,  104. 

Mahomet  and  Mahometans,  45, 
114,  250. 


Mandeville,  his  Fable  of  tlie  Sees, 

Martineau,     Types     of  Ethical 

Tli^ory  quoted,  80,  81,  93,  245. 
Methods  of  studying  moral  and 

religious  questions,  8,  78,  149, 

150,  151,  231. 
Miracles  rejected  by  the  Deists,  143, 

144  ;  Butler's  views  OD,  186,  187  ; 

a  proper  proof  of  Christianity, 

207-209. 
Moberly,  Dr.,  201. 
Moral  sense,  82. 

Morality,  what,  according  to  view  of 
Hobbes,  74  ;  moral  distinctions 
apprehended  by  reason,  immut- 
able and  eternal  according  to 
Cudworth  and  Clarke,  77-87  ; 
morality  demonstrable  according 
to  Locke,  79. 

Morgan,  129, 

Mozley,  Dr.  J.,  200. 

Natuke,  different  senses  of,  10", 
150  ;  virtue  consists  in  following 
it,  107  ;  a  scheme  imperfectly 
understood,  175,  176  ;  carried 
on  by  general  laws,  175,  235,  236. 

Natural  knowledge  compared  with 
revelation,  189,  190. 

Natural  religion,  main  truths  of, 
152. 

Newcastle  Infirmarv,  34,  43. 
Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  8,  79,  122. 

Old  Testament,  142,  143,  193  ; 
difficulties  in,  how  to  be  ex- 
plained, 193. 

Oracles  of  Reason,  (Blount),  141. 

Oriel  College,  4,  10,  27,  48. 

Othello,  101. 

Palet,  121. 

Pattison,  M.,  quoted,  18,  53,  69, 
126,  127,  146,  24-3. 

Philpotts,  Bishop,  3. 

Pity,  defined  by  Hobbes,  73,  91 ; 
definition  criticised,  91  ;  obliga- 
tory, 93. 

Pitt,  William,  243. 

Plato,  78,  105,  157. 

Poor  laws  of  Elizabeth,  32. 


INDEX 


261 


Porteous,  Bisliop,  11. 
Presbyterians,  the,  4,  8,  10,  48. 
Pretender,  the  Young,  39. 
Probation,  life  a,  170-174. 
Prophecy,  142,  143  ;  a  proper  proof 

of  Christianity,  207,  210,  211, 

212. 

Protestant  sects,  9,  127. 
Punishment,    its  idea  associated 

with  tliat  of  government,  160  ; 

attached    to    vice,    162,    163  ; 

future  to  be  apprehended,  161- 

163. 

Rationali.sm,  prevailing  note  of 
eighteenth  century,  127. 

Reason  regarded  as  final  court  of 
appeal,  72  ;  unduly  exalted  by 
Deists,  128,  177  ;  no  truths  con- 
trary to  it,  or  above  it  (Poland), 
132  ;  truths  of,  reinforced  by  re- 
velation, according  to  Locke,130, 
Clarke,  135,  Butler,18],182;  sup- 
plemented by  revelation  (Butler), 
182-184  ;  to  be  held  to,  54,  199  ; 
but  incompetent  to  judge  con- 
tents of  revelation,  188,  189, 
191  ;  but  of  its  evidence,  188, 
191  ;  apprehends  eternal  and 
immutable  moral  distinctions, 
according  to  Cudworth  and 
Clarke,  80,  81. 

Reasonableness  of  Christianity 
(Locke),  128. 

Reflex  sense,  reflection,  82,106,108, 
109,  112,  115. 

Remedial  scheme,  Christianity  a, 
190. 

Resentment,  its  kinds,  96  ;  their 
final  cause,  97. 

Resignation  defined,  120  ;  whole 
of  piety,  120,  170,  232^ 

Resurrection  of  Christ,  170. 

Revelation  held  superfluous  by 
Deists,  138,  139  ;  reinforces  and 
supplements  light  of  nature, 
according  to  Clarke,  135,  and 
Butler,  181-185  ;  reason  not  a 
competent  judge  of  its  contents, 
188-190  ;  progressive,  193,  194  ; 
incompleteness  of  proof  of  part 
of  our  probation,  204,  205,  215. 


Revenge,  96,  98. 

Saint  Paul's,  Butler  Dean  of,  22, 
23. 

Scheme,  Nature  and  Christianity 
each  a,  imperfectly  apprehended, 
175-177,  194,  195  ;  containing 
things  liable  to  objection,  175, 
195. 

Seeker,  Archbishop,  3,  5,  7,  9,  11, 

14,  15,19,  27,  30,  47,  48,  49,  71. 
Self-deceit,  110. 

Self-interest,  prevalence  of,  59,  89  ; 
never  really  opposed  to  con- 
science, 110. 

Self-love  a  superior  principle,  100, 
102,  103,  108  ;  not  opposed  to 
benevolence,  104,  105. 

Shaftesbury,  Lord,  his  Character- 
istics, 12  ;  criticised  by  Butler, 
13  ;  opposes  Hobhes,  78  ;  his 
system,  82-85  ;  referred  to,  88, 

164,  224. 

Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the 
Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts,  27,  28, 
29,  31,  246. 

Socrates,  238. 

Somerset,  Duchess  of,  3,  42,  43. 
Spencer,  Herbert,  238. 
Spinoza,  8. 

Stanhope,  Butler  rector  of,  3,  4, 

15,  17,  18,  20,  21,  22. 

Steere,  Bishop,  Memoir  by,  3,  40, 
41. 

Stephen,  Leslie,  History  of  English 
Tliought  in  the  Eighteenth  Cen- 
tury, 77,  112,  121,  122,  161. 

Stephen,  Leslie,  55,  86,  117,  133, 

165,  166,  225,  232. 

Stoics  and  Stoicism,  107,  232. 
Style,  Butler's,  15-18,  50. 
Superstition,  73,  110. 

Talbot,  Bishop  of  Salisbury  and 
Durham,  10,  11,  13,  14,  15,  19. 

Talbot,  Lord  Charles,  Lord  Chan- 
cellor, 10,  IS,  20,  22. 

Talbot,  Edward,  10,  13,  15,142. 

Temptation,  part  of  discipline,  167, 
168. 

Tewkesbury,  5,  8. 

Tindal,  129,  137-140,  202,  204. 


262 


INDEX 


Toland,  131,  132,  133. 
Tucker,  Dean,  3,  23,  25. 

VlRTlTE,  according  to  Shaftesbury, 
84,  85  ;  proceeds  from  love  of 
our  neighbour,  104  ;  consum- 
mated in  love  of  God,  118,  119, 
122  ;  its  connection  with  happi- 
ness, 162,  163,  164,  165  ;  Disscrta- 
iioii  m  the  nature  of,  222  ;  not 
identical  with  benevolence, 
224. 


Walpole,  21. 

Wantage,  4. 

Warburton,  19,  71. 

Wear  River,  42. 

Wesley,  25,  26,  243. 

Whiston,  142. 

Whitfield,  25,  26,  243. 

William  and  Mary,  reign  of,  2 

58,  60. 
Wilson,  Bishop,  19. 
Wollaston,  19,  78,  81,  137. 
Woolston,  143. 


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